#minor spoilers if you're anime only I guess?

[lumberwoof]

cannot stop thinking about my super self-indulgent Sendai Frogs AU where I added Goshiki, Kindaichi, Takeru, and Yamaguchi (I did say super self-indulgent, right?) to the team to join Koganegawa, Kyoutani, and Tsukishima

[emjayewrites]

a bellingham christmas (hey there delilah) • jude bellingham

SYNOPSIS: Real Madrid football star Jude Bellingham has had a big crush on Delilah "Lila" Hamilton, the younger sister of Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, for a while. As their budding romance unfolds, will they be able to navigate the pressures of fame and family dynamics?

PAIRINGS: Jude Bellingham x Delilah "Lila" Hamilton (face claim Rayan Xasan)

WARNINGS: cursing, f1/football b.s., overly protective siblings, light smut, adult jokes (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @dreamingjude @foreverisntenough @nichmeddar @lettersofgold @judesvirtual @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @leilaxaliel @ispywithmylileye @vile-harlot @bellinghaalands @certifiedlesbianbaddie @yeea-nah @empressdede @saturnville @pinkcatcus @shepgurl @ffenthusiastt @serpenttines-library @judesprincess @bbgkoo @enretrogue @liamundi

A/N: Merry Christmas you filthy animals! Also bit of a spoiler for another story!

Bergen greeted them with a flurry of snow, the city's harbor twinkling with Christmas lights. Lila, bundled up in one of Jude's oversized hoodies under her coat, pressed her face against the car window like an excited child.

"It's so pretty," she breathed, watching the snow-covered houses pass as their driver continued down the road.

Jude smiled, watching her reaction. For someone who grew up with the glitz of Formula 1 and fashion weeks, Lila still had this endearing way of finding wonder in simple things.

The Bellingham's rented house sat overlooking the fjord, a modern three-story structure with floor-to-ceiling windows that captured the stunning winter landscape. Traditional Norwegian Christmas decorations adorned every surface and strings of white lights twinkled everywhere.

Inside was cheerful chaos. The massive Fraser fir dominated the living room, while Jobe and Mark engaged in their annual tree-placement debate.

"It needs to be centered in front of the window," Mark insisted, one hand on the trunk.

"Dad, no one's going to see it from the fjord," Jobe argued. "If we put it in the corner, there's more room for presents."

"Your son's thinking about his gift pile already," Mark called to Denise, who was orchestrating Christmas preparations from the open-plan kitchen.

"Both of you stop fussing and just put it where I marked the spot," Denise directed, not looking up from her baking. The scent of her famous rum cake already filled the air, mixing with pine needles and cinnamon.

At the sound of the front door opening, Denise's face lit up. She abandoned her baking, rushing to greet them with flour-dusted hands.

"My babies!" she exclaimed, pulling Lila into a warm hug, not caring about the flour transferring to Lila's coat. "How was your flight? Are you hungry? You look tired - Jude, did you let her sleep on the plane?"

Before either could answer, she was already moving on. "Jude, take her bags up - and yes, I put you in separate rooms so don't even try it." Her eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "Oh, and guess who's here? Justine! Can you believe it? Jobe finally worked up the courage to invite her."

She said this last part in what she probably thought was a whisper, but it carried clearly across the room. Jobe's protests of "Mum!" only made her beam wider.

"Now come in properly, you're letting all the warm air out. I've got hot chocolate ready, and there are fresh cookies cooling - unless your father's found them already."

Mark's guilty expression suggested he had indeed found the cookies, but Denise was too happy having all her children (and their significant others) under one roof to mind.

Lila's eyes widened. "Justine's here? Like, here here?"

"Upstairs getting changed," Denise nodded, clearly thrilled. "I've already started calling her daughter."

"Jesus, Mum!" Jobe groaned from across the room.

Just then, Justine appeared on the stairs, looking slightly nervous but happy. Lila hadn't seen her since that Liverpool match months ago, but the way Jobe's face lit up at the sight of her said everything.

"Li!" Justine smiled, coming over for a hug. "Thank god you're here. I need another sane person in this house."

"Oi!" Jude protested while Lila laughed.

"Don't worry," Lila stage-whispered to Justine. "The Bellingham boys are a lot, but you get used to it."

"I heard that," Jobe called out, but he was grinning as he made his way to Justine's side.

As they decorated the tree, Lila couldn't help but notice how Justine hesitated before placing each ornament, glancing at Denise as if seeking approval. It reminded her of her own early days with the Bellinghams, that desire to fit perfectly into their world.

"The star goes wherever you want, love," Denise assured Justine, seeming to sense her uncertainty. "We're not formal about these things."

Jobe appeared behind Justine, wrapping his arms around her waist in a move so reminiscent of his brother that Lila had to hide her smile. The Bellingham boys and their physical affection - always touching, always close.

"Here," Jobe murmured, lifting Justine slightly so she could reach a higher branch. "Perfect spot."

"You two are sickeningly cute," Lila told Jobe and Justine. "Almost as bad as your brother."

"Please," Jobe scoffed, but his hand stayed at Justine's waist. "We're way cuter."

"Don't start that competition," Mark warned, hanging lights. "I already know my sons can't keep their hands to themselves."

"Dad!" both brothers protested while Justine blushed and Lila laughed.

As the evening continued, Lila watched Justine gradually relax, especially when Jobe kept finding excuses to stay close - adjusting her Santa hat, bringing her hot chocolate, stealing quick kisses when he thought no one was looking.

"They remind me of us," Jude whispered in Lila's ear, pulling her onto his lap in the big armchair.

"Mm, young love," Lila teased, earning a playful pinch.

"Young love? You're like a few months older than them," he murmured against her neck.

"Still."

"Oh, Lila Bila. What am I gonna do with you?"

"Love me obviously," she said, turning her head to plant a kiss on his lips.

______________________________________________

Dinner was a lively affair, the table laden with both traditional English Christmas dishes and Norwegian specialties Denise had insisted on trying. Everyone wore paper crowns from the crackers, even Mark who usually protested such things.

Under the table, Lila texted Zuri:

Lila: "OMG. Jobe brought Justine to Bergen!! Like full-on family Christmas!!" Zuri: "NO WAY. Baby Bellingham's growing up 😭" Lila: "Girl, you should see them. So cute it hurts" Zuri: "Denise must be over the moon" Lila: "Already calling her daughter 😂 Poor girl looks terrified"

Watching Justine navigate the family dynamics was like looking in a mirror from months ago. The way she carefully laughed at Mark's dad jokes, how she kept glancing at Jobe for reassurance, the slight nervousness when Denise asked about her studies.

After dinner, they gathered for movies, everyone in pajamas. Jude pulled Lila close on the couch, his chin resting on her head. Jobe and Justine settled on the floor, surrounded by pillows, his hand absently playing with her hair.

The Polar Express played first. During The Grinch, Lila found herself watching the others more than the screen. Denise kept "sneaking" cookies to everyone, while Mark dozed in his armchair, occasionally waking up to quote his favorite parts.

When bedtime came ("Separate rooms, I mean it!"), Lila retreated to change into her silk pajamas. She sent her Christmas messages:

To Lewis: "Merry Christmas big bro! You deserve this break after your farewell tour. So proud of you heading to Ferrari! Give Amara a big hug from me (though I'm sure you're with her anyway 😉)" To her parents, Nicolas, and her sisters & Mama Carmen: "Miss you! See you for New Year's! ❤️"

The knock on her door surprised her - instead of Jude trying to sneak in more kisses, she found Justine.

"Hey," Justine whispered. "Can we talk?"

Lila ushered her in, patting the bed beside her. "What's up?"

Their conversation flowed easily, both girls cross-legged on Lila's bed. Justine confessed her worries about balancing university with Jobe's football schedule, about the media attention, about living up to the Bellingham name.

"I just... how do you do it?" Justine asked. "Dating a Bellingham boy while having your own life? I'm worried about next term at uni, and Jobe's schedule with Sunderland…"

Lila understood completely. "Honestly? Communication is everything. Jude and I make it work because we talk about everything. The good, the bad, the times we miss each other so much it hurts."

"And the fans? The comments?"

"Keep your Instagram private," Lila advised firmly. "Fuck the naysayers. Focus on you and Jobe. The rest is just noise. And remember - you're not dating the footballer, you're dating the boy who still collects Star Wars Legos and can't cook toast without burning it."

Justine laughed softly. "He's so good to me. Like, ridiculously good. Sometimes I worry it's too good to be true."

"Those Bellingham boys," Lila smiled. "They don't do anything halfway. Trust me, I get it. But that's who they are - all in, heart on sleeve, love without hesitation."

After Justine left, Lila snuggled into bed, feeling content. Her phone lit up with messages - Lewis sending a photo of him and Amara in front of their Christmas tree and Zuri updating her about the Megève adventures. And before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Lila woke to the sound of wind whistling outside her window. Snow swirled in the darkness, creating shadows that danced across her ceiling. The storm had picked up, making the old house creak and settle.

Then she heard it - the distinct sound of floorboards in the hallway, followed by a particular pattern of knocks she'd know anywhere.

Three quick taps, pause, one more.

Lila tiptoed to the door, careful to avoid the squeaky spots she'd noticed earlier. Opening it revealed Jude wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a soft t-shirt.

"Can't sleep," he whispered, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Just want to cuddle."

She stepped aside to let him in, both of them trying not to laugh as the floor creaked despite their best efforts. The storm outside provided perfect cover for their midnight rendezvous, the wind masking their whispered conversation as they settled into bed, Jude's arms wrapping around her waist.

"Your mum's going to kill us," Lila murmured, but she was already melting into his warmth.

"Worth it," he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Jude’s body beside her chased away the chill from the storm outside. Lila had almost drifted back to sleep when his hands started to roam, fingertips brushing lightly along her waist over the silk fabric of her pajama top. She froze, her breath catching as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"Jude," she whispered, her voice a mix of warning and affection. "Your parents are sleeping in the same house."

"They’re on the floor below," he murmured, lips now at her neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses against her skin. "They’re older, they can’t hear."

"That doesn’t make it—" Her words were cut off by the way his teeth lightly scraped against the sensitive spot just beneath her jawline. She shivered, her resolve slipping.

"You can be quiet, right, Li?" he teased, his voice low and raspy. She wanted to argue, to tell him no, but then his hands slid under her top, his palms warm and sure as they caressed her breasts.

"Jude," she tried again, but it came out as more of a breathy plea than the admonishment she intended.

"Hmm?" He kissed his way back up to her lips, capturing them in a kiss so soft yet so utterly consuming that she lost herself in it. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, then tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He took his time undressing her, the silk of her pajamas slipping away under his gentle yet determined hands. She gasped as the cool air kissed her exposed skin, only to be replaced by the heat of his touch and the soft press of his lips around her nipples. She tried to remind herself of the risk, the fact that his family was downstairs, but every coherent thought melted under his attention.

Jude leaned back briefly, his gaze sweeping over her, full of adoration. "You’re perfect," he murmured, making her cheeks flush even in the dim light of the storm-filtered room. She reached for him, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, and he obliged, pulling it off in one smooth motion. The rest of his clothes followed until he was settled between her legs, his body fitting against hers as if they were made for each other.

He paused, reaching for the bedside drawer, and he couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at his lips. "Prepared, are we?"

"Always," she replied with a grin, watching as he tore open the condom and slipped it on.

"Hoping I’d sneak in?"

"Who says I was?" she shot back, her voice light but teasing.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers, his smile softening into something infinitely tender. "Liar," he whispered before kissing her deeply, leaving no room for argument.

When he entered her, it was slow and deliberate, his movements filled with care as though he wanted to savor every second. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt like home. Each kiss, each touch, spoke volumes of the love between them, a quiet exchange of promises neither had to say aloud.

He whispered her name against her skin, his voice rough with emotion, and she responded in kind, her fingers tracing patterns across his back. The world outside faded away, leaving only the storm, their shared breaths, and the warmth of their connection.

When they finally came undone together, Lila couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. Jude pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing still uneven as he smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Li," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with affection.

She smiled back. "Merry Christmas, Jude."

Denise’s favorite Christmas playlist was a thing of legend, and this year was no different. The opening notes of “Last Christmas” by WHAM! blasted through the house, the volume high enough to shake the walls.

Lila stirred, the sound pulling her from the warm cocoon of sleep. She blinked groggily, realizing the weight of Jude’s arm was still draped over her waist. The storm had subsided overnight, leaving behind a blanket of snow and a house filled with holiday cheer—and impending chaos.

"Jude," she whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder. "Jude, wake up! Your mum’s going to catch us!"

"Mmm," Jude groaned, burying his face into her neck. "It’s Christmas, Li. Relax."

"She’s knocking on doors," Lila hissed, her voice rising as she heard Denise’s cheerful voice in the hallway.

"Merry Christmas! Get up, get your presents!" Denise called, her knock sharp and rhythmic as she moved from room to room.

Jude finally opened his eyes, his groggy gaze meeting Lila’s worried one. "Okay, okay," he muttered, sitting up and stretching lazily. "We’ve got time."

"We do not have time!" Lila said, already scrambling to find her silk pajama top. She tugged it over her head just as Jude slid out of bed with a frustratingly calm demeanor.

He pulled on his flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, taking his time smoothing out the fabric. "See? Easy."

"Your mum is going to kill me," Lila said, tying her pajama pants as Jude opened the door a crack and peeked out.

"The coast is clear," he whispered with a grin, holding out his hand for her. She hesitated before slipping her hand into his, and together they tiptoed down the hall like a pair of guilty teenagers.

Downstairs, the living room was already buzzing with Christmas energy. Mark stood by the tree, fully dressed as Santa, complete with a fake beard and a red velvet suit. Denise, ever the festive one, was wearing reindeer antlers, a white cashmere sweater dress, and fluffy red slippers.

Justine appeared at the top of the stairs, looking a little overwhelmed but still smiling. "Good morning, Mr. Mark," she greeted, trying to stifle a laugh.

Mark, however, was fully committed to his role. "Who’s this Mark person? You don’t recognize Santa?" he boomed in a deep, theatrical voice.

Jobe groaned as he flopped onto the couch. "Why are you here, Santa? Don’t you have to be back at the North Pole?"

Mark clutched his chest in mock offense. "I’m very close to the North Pole, actually. Plus, I had to see my woman." He turned to Denise, pulling her onto his lap.

Denise giggled like a schoolgirl, clearly enjoying the attention. "Have I been a good girl this year, Santa?" she asked coyly.

"Okay, that’s enough!" Jude declared, his cheeks turning red as he began rummaging under the tree. "Let’s get to the presents before this gets any weirder."

As Mark and Denise continued their playful banter, the girls exchanged a knowing look. Justine mouthed, "This family is crazy!" and Lila couldn’t help but laugh.

Jude started handing out presents, his efficiency rivaling that of an actual elf. Justine unwrapped a small box from Jobe, her eyes widening as she revealed a delicate pair of diamond stud earrings. "Oh my gosh, Jobe," she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "They’re beautiful."

Jobe grinned sheepishly. "Merry Christmas."

Lila’s heart raced as Jude handed her a small, velvet box. She opened it slowly, her breath catching when she saw the ring inside. It sparkled like an engagement ring, its delicate band and subtle diamond catching the light.

"Something for right now," Jude murmured, his voice soft as he took her hand. "Before the real thing."

Denise let out a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. "Oh, Jude! That’s so sweet!" She wiped at her eyes, clearly overcome with emotion.

Lila slipped the ring onto her finger, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "It’s perfect," she said, leaning in to kiss Jude on the cheek.

After the presents were opened and the wrapping paper cleared, they gathered around the table for breakfast. Plates piled high with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled the air with the smell of comfort and celebration.

Mark, still wearing his Santa hat, insisted on leading a toast. "To family, to love, and to making this Christmas unforgettable."

The morning unfolded with laughter, teasing, and stories shared around the table. Despite the chaos and close calls, Lila couldn’t help but feel grateful. It wasn’t just the presents or the festivities—it was the warmth of being surrounded by people who loved each other unabashedly.

After breakfast, they bundled up for sledding. Lila disappeared under layers - thermal underwear, ski pants, and an oversized black Moncler puffer that made her look even tinier than usual. As she waddled towards the door, Jude couldn't contain his grin.

"You look like the cutest little penguin I've ever seen," he teased, earning himself a playful swat.

"Not all of us are built like trees," she retorted, but her eyes sparkled with amusement behind her designer ski goggles.

The hill behind the house was perfect for sledding. Jobe immediately claimed the fastest sled, prompting Jude to scoff.

"Please, you need all the help you can get," Jude taunted. "What's your technique gonna be? Naruto running down the hill?"

"Better than looking like a giraffe on ice," Jobe shot back. "You’re gonna lose, old man."

"Old man?" Jude's eyebrows shot up. "Alright then, prove it. First one to that tree wins."

"What tree? The one you can reach standing still?"

Their first few runs were close, each brother claiming victory while the girls kept actual score. Jude's longer legs gave him an advantage on the trudge back up, but Jobe's lighter frame meant faster runs down.

"That's three-two, my favor," Jobe gloated after another run.

"In what universe?" Jude demanded. "You're counting that wonky run where you nearly took out that bush?"

"A win's a win, bruv."

"Watch this then," Jude positioned his sled. "This is how a Real Madrid star does it."

His run was perfect until Jobe "accidentally" sent a spray of snow into his face at the bottom.

"Oh, you're done for," Jude growled playfully, tackling his brother into a snowbank.

They wrestled in the snow like kids, their expensive coats doing nothing to protect them from the wet cold. Justine and Lila stood to the side, sharing knowing looks.

From the porch, where Denise and Mark sat by the outdoor fire pit nursing hot toddies, came the warning they all knew was coming:

"Jude Victor and Jobe Samuel!" Denise's voice carried clear across the snow. "If you don't cut that foolishness out right now..."

The brothers separated instantly, recognizing that tone all too well. Their mother didn't need to finish the threat - they were already brushing snow off their coats, looking appropriately chastened.

"Every time," Mark chuckled, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"Works every time," Denise corrected with a satisfied smile.

Lila caught Justine's eye and they both burst out laughing. The mighty Bellingham boys, brought to heel by their mother's voice. Some things never changed.

"One more run?" Jobe suggested innocently.

"Clean one this time," Jude agreed. "No cheating."

"Me? Cheat? I would never-"

"Jobe."

"Fine, fine. May the best man win."

"Don't worry," Jude smirked. "I will."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

As they watched their boyfriends take on another run down the hill, Lila realized how perfectly Justine fit into their chaos, just like she had. The Bellinghams had a way of making family out of love, of turning girlfriends into daughters, of making space in their hearts for more. Christmas with them was exactly that - chaotic, warm, and absolutely perfect.

lilahamilton and 6 others

liked by iamzuriawanto, sen_inthecity, amara_nadine, lewishamilton and 1.3m others

lilahamilton: best christmas ever 🎅🏾 🎄

view all 4.6K comments….

judebellingham: love you li 😘

⤷lilahamilton: love you more 🫶🏾

iamzuriawanto: lilhamilton & judebellingham you guys are sooo cute!!

⤷jadevanderwall: iamzuriawanto I know right!!

⤷lilahamilton: iamzuriawanto I think you and aurelientchm are cuter 😊

judilaforever: merry christmas 🎄

jobebellingham: 🎄 🎅🏾🍪

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite��� feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[writinginatree]

Zombie

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sister!reader, Bodhi Durran & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: You, Xaden's younger sister and a first-year rider cadet, acquire an undead dog. Now you just have to convince your brother and the Assembly to let you keep it.

Warnings: Set during Iron Flame (so spoiler alert if you haven't read it yet!), swearing, descriptions of (un)dead animals, mention of insects/spiders, brief mention of blood and a minor injury (on Bodhi).

A/N: This is very silly and self-indulgent; if anything doesn't make sense, just pretend it does.

You're so busy planning how you'll get your newfound dog into the house without anyone seeing, that you don't watch where you're going, and — just your luck! — almost collide with your brother as he steps out the door of Riorson House.

"Oh, uh, hi Xaden," you say, hoping against hope he won't see the dog behind you. It's a big, dark-brown mutt, and you really want to get it inside and patched up before having to argue about whether you're allowed to keep it. "Nice day, huh?"

Xaden gives you a look that says he's seeing right through your bullshit, and asks, "What's with the dog?"

Damn it.

"I found it. It's hurt."

You step aside the let him have a better look at the dog and the big hole in its skull that allows a view into the inside of almost the whole half of its head. The ear on that side is half ripped off, too, only hanging on by one corner. Xaden frowns at the dog as it sits down at your feet, rubbing the intact side of its head against your leg.

"Hurt seems like a bit of an understatement."

"Does that mean I can bring it inside and help it?"

"I don't think that dog can be helped anymore. Its head is mush."

"So? Look at him, he's fine!"

The dog stares up at Xaden, wagging its tail as if to agree with you. Xaden stares back — or rather, glares. You don't understand why, but he doesn't seem to like your new pet.

"That thing is dead," he says matter-of-factly.

"Uh... What?"

"It's dead," he repeats.

It doesn't make any more sense than the first time he said it. You would understand him saying something like this if the dog wasn't moving. Laying still on its side as it had when you found it, you had mistaken it for dead at first, too. But now the dog is as lively as can be.

"Don't be ridiculous, Xaden. How could it be walking around if it was dead?"

"How could it not be dead with an injury like that?" your brother counters.

"I dunno. But it clearly isn't."

How can he doubt that, when the dog is so obviously full of live?

"Was it moving when you found it?"

"No. He was lying in the dirt. At first I wasn't sure if he's alive, either, but when I touched him, he woke up. He's not dead, Xaden, he only looks that way because of the hole in his head. If we stitch it up, he'll be fine."

Xaden looks between you and the dog, a contemplative look on his face. "It woke up when you touched it, huh?"

"Yeah. Must have been sleeping or unconscious. You know, I think the hole in the head doesn't even bother him. I mean, I know he's not acting like you'd expect a hurt dog to. Maybe it's normal, do you think? Like, a natural deformity?"

"No, I don't think so," Xaden says slowly, still watching the dog with narrowed eyes. What the fuck is his problem?! "Hard to live with your brain literally leaking from your head. And look at the edges of the wound. If I had to guess, I'd say someone smashed his skull with a rock."

If you're honest, that's exactly what you thought at first too. And if someone really hurt this poor dog on purpose, you're going to find them and kill them.

"Well, maybe his brain is hurt just enough that he can't feel the pain anymore?" you suggest. Your brother might have a point in thinking there's something off about the dog, but it definitely isn't dead, no matter what he says.

"He can't feel the pain anymore because he's dead."

"Why do you keep saying that?! He's clearly fine!"

"No, he's not."

You try to object again, but Xaden cuts you off.

"Half his head is gone, kid."

Of course he has to call you kid now, just in case you forgot that he's older and smarter than you. Ugh. Can't he just admit he's wrong for once? Well, fine. If you can't convince him the dog is alive, then let him think what he wants. It's not like it matters, really.

"Whatever. Just let me keep him," you demand. "Please?"

"How many times, that dog is dead."

"No, he's not!" You have to fight the urge to stomp your foot like a child. Arguing with Xaden is like talking to a fucking wall, and twice as frustrating. "This dog is perfectly alive!"

"This dog is dead, Cadet Riorson," a bewildered healer tells you a little later. "Absolutely dead."

When you kept arguing with Xaden, he finally agreed to let you bring the dog inside — to let someone else convince you it's dead, as it turns out, and not to have its injuries treated as you wanted.

"But..." You gesture to the animal in question. It retreated behind you as soon as the healer let go of it, hiding with its tail between its legs. It looks not only scared, but also very much alive, if you ignore the gaping hole in its head. "How can it be so alive if it's dead?"

"Necromancy," Xaden says from where he's leaning in the doorway, like that explains anything.

You've heard of necromancy of course — the ability to reanimate the dead, an extremely rare signet. As far as you're aware it's been half a century at the very least since there's last been a rider who had it. But on the other hand, what do you know?

"You think there's a necromancer here?"

Xaden nods.

"But why would they revive a dog and then just leave him lying there? I found him all alone in the dirt, Xay! There was no one there!"

"You said you thought it was dead at first, didn't you? It only moved when you touched it?"

"Well, yeah. But what—?" You break off when you understand what he's implying. "You think I'm a necromancer?!"

You don't listen to your brother's answer. As he nods, you reach out to your dragon. "Rexus? Am I a necromancer?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"How should I know? You could be, that's all I can tell you."

"But it hasn't even been that long since you started channelling. Can my signet really be manifesting already?"

"Certainly. Some are faster than others."

Damn. Can it really be true? You suppose you might indeed be a bit of an early bloomer, and Rexus is certainly powerful enough that a signet like necromancy seems possible. You were alone when you found the dog — the dead dog, who's alive now. The only logical conclusion is that it was you who reanimated it. Still, it's hard to wrap your head around the idea of yourself as a necromancer.

"But I didn't even do anything!"

"Didn't you? Or did you just not realize it?"

You can feel his amusement filling your head. Sometimes you think you bonded the dragon with the worst sense of humor on the entire continent. Watching you struggle seems to be his favorite form of entertainment, and he never gives you explanations about anything, always telling you to figure it out on your own.

"You're extremely unhelpful, Rexus, you know that?"

Xaden snaps his fingers in front of your face, effectively ripping you out of the frustrating conversation with your dragon. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No." You look at the dog again. His head is tilted to the side, so you can't see the hole in it. He looks almost normal from this angle, but now you notice the strange glow in his eyes, like there's a fire burning behind them. Magic? "Rexus is making fun of me."

Your brother shrugs. "Isn't he always?"

Yeah, that's true...

"Hey, Xaden? If I'm really a necromancer and it was me who reanimated the dog, then it's basically mine, right? Sooo... I can keep it, right?" you ask, pouting at Xaden. The dog has sat down by your feet and looks up at your brother too, wearing an expression eerily similar to your own. "Please?"

Xaden crosses his arms and opens his mouth — judging from his expression he wants to say no, but you don't let him.

"Please, Xay! You know I always wanted a dog!"

And you know so did he. You're sure you can convince him.

"But not a dead one!"

"A dog is a dog. And he's alive, even if he's dead! ...Okay, that sounds weird, but you know what I mean!"

"You're a rider. You don't have time for a dog."

Well, at least he's not saying that riders aren't allowed to have dogs. Is there anything about that in the Codex? You doubt there've been many people who attempted to bring a pet into the quadrant, so maybe, if you're lucky, no one ever bothered to make a rule about it. But even if there is — technically you're all deserted. Surely you can be a little lax with the Codex while in the midst of outright revolution, right?

"Sure I do. And he's dead anyway, so it's not like— Wait, do dead dogs need to eat and pee? Probably not, right?"

"I don't think so," Xaden agrees, "but the house is already full to the brim with riders and fliers. We don't need a dog causing chaos on top of that."

"He won't cause chaos. Promise! He'll be the bestest, most well-behaved dog you've ever seen, I swear!"

Xaden glares at you for a few seconds, clearly running out of arguments. Then he shakes his head. "Okay, you know what? This isn't my problem. I'm not even in charge of you. Ask one of your direct superiors if you can keep it."

A grin spreads over your face. You won.

"Bodhi!" You run to find your cousin, the dog right on your heels without you having to give a single command. "Bodhi, I found a dog! Can I keep it? Please! Xaden says I can if you're okay with it."

"That is not what I said," your brother complains somewhere behind you. You ignore him.

Bodhi stares at the dog. "That thing has a hole in the head. I can see its brain."

"Yes. He's dead. But also not. Now can I keep him?"

"Why are you asking me of all people that?"

"Because you're my section leader. And you'll say yes. Right?"

To your dismay Bodhi ignores your question. "Uh, can we maybe focus on the question of why and how you got an undead dog?"

"I found it dead in the dirt," you briefly explain, jumping up and down impatiently. Why can't he just focus on the important things?! "Apparently I'm a necromancer. At least that's what Xaden thinks. So, can I keep it?"

"A necromancer? Wow, that's—"

"Bodhi! Can I keep the dog?!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, I guess. But—"

"Thank you," you squeal, pressing a kiss to his cheek before running off.

"Well, she sure has her priorities straight," Bodhi says behind you. You still hear Xaden agreeing, then you're out of earshot.

First of all the dog — your dog, you remind yourself with a grin — needs a bath. And you need to sew his ear back on, and maybe try to close the head wound, too. It might not bother him, but it's annoying to accidentally end up with your fingers in his brain when you pet him. There should still be time enough for a bath before dinner, the rest can wait until later. And when you're done, you'll try and find a collar, so you can put a name tag on it. First you need to think of a name, of course...

The next day you bring your dog to class, earning you more than a few stares from classmates and professors alike.

"What in Malek's name—?!"

"That's Zombie."

"Zombie. You called your zombie-dog... Zombie?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wow. Very creative."

"Thank you."

"That doesn't explain what that thing is doing in here, though. This is Battle Brief, not a dog-sitting club."

"He doesn't like to be alone. Mainly because he drops dead again whenever I'm too far away, I guess. I promise he won't bother anyone, sir, really."

Throughout the day, you keep having to repeat this conversation with every one of your professors. Some, like Devera and the lieutenant colonel, accept Zombie's presence without much fuss. Others insist you remove the dog from their classrooms. By the end of the day it's clear to everyone that a collective decision has to be made, and you're summoned to the Assembly chamber, Zombie glued to your side as always.

Everyone has their eyes on the dog when you step into the room, some with obvious distaste, others merely curious — not all of them have met Zombie yet.

Their meeting seems to have been going on for a while already, and you wonder what other more important things they've been discussing. Judging by how weary everyone looks, you probably don't want to know.

"So... The issue of Cadet Riorson and her dog," Ulices starts.

Seriously? Issue? Now that's an exaggeration if you've ever heard one. Zombie is not an issue.

"What do you even want with that thing?" one of the women asks with a sneer. "It's disgusting."

You crouch down and take Zombie in your arms, covering his ears. "Don't listen to them, Zombie. You're the best."

Xaden, sitting in the fancy chair that used to be your dad's, rolls his eyes at you. "It's a fucking dog. A dead one, at that."

"Dead dogs have feelings too! And anyways," you add, turning to the assembly member who insulted Zombie, "Xaden said I can keep it."

"Hold on, I never said that," your brother protests. "I told you—"

"To ask Bodhi because 'it's not your problem'. And he said yes, so now I get to keep it."

"I never said to ask Bodhi. I just said—"

"But Bodhi is my section leader and he said I can keep it, so—"

One of the assembly members clears their throat, and you both fall quiet. "Could you skip the argument? I don't want to sit here all day."

"Right. Sorry. But since Xaden already said I can keep Zombie," — you glare at your brother, daring him to disagree with you again — "I really don't know why I'm even here."

"You're here because some of us don't like to have a dead dog staring at them while they're trying to teach you," Ulices snaps.

Two others nod. "If you want to play with corpses, do it outside."

Xaden pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Just let her keep the damn dog. It might not be the worst way to train her signet, and she'll never stop whining otherwise."

"I don't think keeping it is the issue here," Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh says. "And since it's Xaden's house it's up to him whether she gets to keep it in here or not, anyway. What we need to decide is whether she can bring it to class or not."

After some back and forth, they begrudgingly decide to allow it, on the condition that Zombie stays right at your feet — except during Emetterio's class, where he has to sit in the corner of the gym, and during flight lessons, for obvious reasons — and is absolutely silent so he doesn't disturb class.

"Now, this is under the assumption that the dog doesn't rot. I'm no expert on necromancy, but I think being reanimated should stop the decay. But if it starts to stink, it's getting thrown out, understand?"

You have no choice but to nod, and hope Zombie really won't decay. They dismiss you with another warning to keep the dog out of people's way.

From then on, you spend your every free minute practicing on Zombie. Keeping him alive and under your will comes to you almost naturally, but the farther he's away, the more energy it takes to do so. You work yourself to the edge of absolute exhaustion a few times trying to keep him reanimated from a longer distance, but your signet seems to grow stronger almost day by day, and it doesn't take long until you're able to keep him reanimated even when you're in a different room. Zombie's heartbreaking whines every time you bring him back after losing grip on your power and accidentally letting him drop dead are a great motivator. It still happens sometimes — during flight lessons, where you have no choice but leave him behind on the ground; when you're struggling with math or lesser magic and need all your focus for that; in your sleep — but you're getting there.

You're also getting curious for more. How many animals can you reanimate at once? Would raising a human from the dead be any different than an animal? Would they still have some form of consciousness, or would they be as mindlessly obedient as Zombie is? Will you ever be able to reanimate something as big as a dragon? How powerful is this signet of yours really? There's no end to all your questions, and Rexus is unhelpful as usual. 'Stop asking stupid questions,' he says, or, 'Don't even think of trying that, you silly girl,' or, his favorite, 'That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard.'

Then there's the issue with insects. Half of the times you kill a mosquito, it comes right back to life, without you meaning to do that. When you walk past a dead spider laying in some dusty corner, it suddenly comes alive and starts following you around until you notice and stop the power you accidentally let trickle into it. You're pretty sure you would soon have a whole army of dead insects trailing after you if you didn't constantly check for them and re-kill them — an idea Rexus, unlike you, finds absolutely hilarious.

Insects aside, you soon have a growing collection of undead pets. Zombie is the only one you keep reanimated at all times, always at your side; the others have to be content being dead when you aren't practicing with them. The two mice and one bird you have so far don't seem to mind. A good thing, because reanimating all three of them while also keeping up the flow of power into Zombie is far from easy — you don't manage to have them all moving around for more than a few minutes before you tire.

You always stop while you still have enough energy for Zombie; he's undeniably your favorite. Xaden told you it might be a better idea to practice with only the mice for now, and work your way up to bigger animals as you get stronger, but you refuse. Zombie hates being dead, and if you didn't keep him reanimated he would start to rot.

Your brother is away a lot, but when he's home, he's keeping a strict eye on what corpses you're allowed to bring inside. Your bird, for example, has to stay in the courtyard. Not just because Xaden thinks you'd end up wrecking windows and furniture if you let it fly inside, but also because of its advanced decay. How it can even fly with the way its wings are rotting off is a mystery to you, but it's fun to have it follow along during flight lessons, when you can focus all your energy on it, since Zombie is too far away on the ground.

One day when Xaden is away again and can't oversee your collection, you bring in another new pet. Unfortunately, you get caught by Bodhi.

"What have you got there?" he asks, stepping into your path with his arms crossed.

"It's, uh, a bunny?"

You clutch the living corpse closer to your chest, hoping to hide the state it's in from your cousin. Truth be told, it doesn't bear much resemblance to a bunny anymore. 'Pile of bones with a few chunks of rotting flesh and fur' would be a more fitting description. But dead animals don't exactly grow on trees, so you have to work with whatever you can get your hands on.

"You are not keeping that thing in the house."

"But—"

"No 'but'. We both know Xaden told you that you can only bring fresh corpses inside. If it stinks, it stays outside. And this bunny is the worst thing I've ever smelled."

You groan in annoyance. You knew that Xaden had asked Bodhi — as well as Violet and a few of your other friends — to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't drag anything too rotten inside when he isn't there, but you weren't prepared for them to take the task so damn seriously. The bunny does stink, you have to admit that, but you need to practice with something.

"Yeah, but—"

"No."

"But it's the only corpse I could find, and I need more to practice!"

"You can practice with it outside."

"Please, Bodhi, can't—"

"No."

"But—"

"Don't make me play the 'I'm your section leader'-card," he threatens. "If you don't listen to me I'll sign you up for all the worst chores."

"You're mean."

Bodhi shrugs. "Take that stinky thing back outside, then I won't have to be mean."

With a heavy sigh you relent. "Fiiine. But if you happen to find any fresher corpses lying around you have to give them to me."

"Corpses don't tend to just randomly lie around."

"I know. That's my problem. I'm just saying if you do come across any—"

"Then they're as good as yours," Bodhi assures you with a grin.

"Thanks."

You head back outside with the bunny. A glance over your shoulder as you do so shows you Bodhi is watching to make sure you actually take it outside. Damn it. Giving in, you take the bunny to the corner of the courtyard where you're also keeping your bird.

Bodhi makes true on his promise that any corpses he might find would be yours and brings you a dead rat the next week. You've got plenty of rodents already — they're the most common and easiest to find — but you suppose it's better than nothing. You wouldn't want to be greedy, and you're starting to run out of space, anyway.

So far, you've simply shoved the corpses into the biggest drawer of your desk — not the best idea, in hindsight. Since you're not keeping them constantly reanimated, the dead animals are starting to stink. As much as you hate to admit it, Xaden might have had a point when he insisted you're only allowed to bring fresh ones inside. Plus, as winter is descending over Aretia, the cold outside will keep them fresh longer.

Sighing, you decide it's time to relocate your collection — with the exception of Zombie, of course. He's as fresh as he was the day you found him, and will continue to live in your room with you.

"Get back here you little shit!"

You race down the hallway, the newest of your undead animals cradled in your arms, until you see Xaden and Violet coming toward you and quickly seize the chance to take cover behind your brother. He looks back at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in a silent question as a barefooted, pajama-clad and very agitated Bodhi comes to a stop in front of him.

"Bodhi stepped on my hedgehog and now he's acting as if that's my fault," you explain. "Can you tell him to fuck off, please?"

Amusement flashes in Xaden's eyes as his attention shifts to Bodhi. "How the fuck did you manage to step on a hedgehog?"

"It showed up out of fucking nowhere! I came out of my bathing chamber and suddenly that stupid thing was there, right under my foot. She sent it to my room on purpose, I know it!"

"Well, of course I did," you say, peeking out from behind Xaden. "But I didn't mean for you to step on it, I swear! I just wanted to show you that I've got a hedgehog now."

"Yeah, well, I noticed," Bodhi grumbles.

You giggle. Probably a bad idea, given his mood, but you can't help it when you think of what just happened. "You should have seen him jumping around on one foot and squealing," you tell Xaden and Violet.

Bodhi's scowl deepens, and he points a finger at you. "Just wait till I get my hands on you, you damn brat," he threatens.

Safe behind Xaden as you are, you dare to stick out your tongue at your cousin, who gives you another glare before turning and going back to his room while grumbling something about you being childish. There's a bloody footprint where he stood, which does make you feel a little bad for him. It really wasn't your fault, though. He should have watched where he was going.

You hold the hedgehog — who certainly didn't enjoy being stepped on any more than Bodhi enjoyed stepping on it — out to Violet and Xaden. "Isn't it the cutest?"

She nods. "Very cute. And it doesn't look dead at all."

"I know, right? It must have died only a few hours before I found it. Of old age, I think."

"You can tell how an animal died when you reanimate it?"

"Well, kind of. I can feel what they felt when they died, if they were in pain, hungry, warm or cold, stuff like that, and from that I can guess how they died. But it's not really exact. Maybe I'll get better at it eventually."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. It's already amazing how quickly you're learning to control your signet."

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. Being praised like that by a rider as powerful as Violet is doing wonders for your ego.

"Where did you leave Zombie?" Xaden wants to know. By now everyone has gotten so used to the dog being glued to your side that people get confused on the rare occasions he isn't with you.

"He's in my room. I'm good enough to keep both him and the hedgehog under control from this distance now," you proudly explain. "If I go any further away than the staircase he'll drop dead, though. Unless I let go of the hedgehog, that is."

"How many of the animals can you control at once now? When you're in the same room?"

"Uh... All the ones I have. But only over a short time."

Xaden pets the top of your head. "You really are learning fast," he praises. "But what's the hedgehog doing in here, anyway? I thought you're storing all the corpses outside now."

"I am. I just wanted to show it to Bodhi."

A couple weeks later, you're sitting in the snow-covered courtyard with all your undead pets, letting them run in faster and faster circles as you lurk for your brother. When he finally shows up, your minions have him circled in an instant. Xaden is completely unfazed by your antics, merely rolling his eyes as your bunnies, rats, mice, hedgehog, horse and Zombie run around him, kicking up snow, your bird flying circles right over his head.

"I want a human," you declare.

Xaden blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"A human. For my necromancy."

"We just found you a dead horse a few days ago," he reminds you.

"That's boring. I want to know if I'm strong enough to reanimate a human yet. And what that'd be like."

"No."

"Come on! Please!"

"No."

"Why not?! Rexus thinks I'm strong enough to try it!"

"I'm not doubting that," Xaden says, "but just because you can doesn't mean you should."

You sigh, and let your animals stop running around him. They drop dead, except for Zombie, who comes to you to cuddle. In all honesty, this is exactly the answer you expected. You're well aware that disturbing the dead is frowned upon, that necromancers aren't supposed to use their powers on humans — not unless the human consented to it prior to their death. There's even something about it in the Codex, calling it desecration of the dead.

But how are you supposed to test the limits of your signet and grow stronger if you're not allowed to practice on anything bigger? Sure, the horse is a start, but it's still just a horse. And Rexus won't even let you ride it, because apparently that would be both insulting to him, and below your dignity as a dragon rider — emphasis on dragon.

You bury your face in Zombie's fur, inhaling the scent of the flowery soap you washed him with.

"Are you seriously sulking now?" Xaden asks.

"Yes. Will throwing a tantrum change your mind?"

"No. And you'll catch a cold if you keep sitting in the snow, so how about you try behaving like an adult for a change?"

"No." You cross your arms. "I'm bored."

"Lucky you."

"Are you really, really sure I can't have a human to practice on?"

"Absolutely sure. If you're so bored, go to the gym. You've been neglecting sparring practice over your necromancy."

You pull a face. He does have a point — though you're a good fighter, you can never train enough. But you'd rather work on your signet.

"None of the other first-years can keep up with me anyway."

That's a blatant lie — while you really are the best in your year, there are a bunch of other cadets strong enough for you to practice with.

"No one said you have to spar with a first-year. Meet me in the gym in an hour."

Your mood is instantly improved. You don't get to spar with your brother very often, and your chances of actually winning a fight against him are somewhere between slim and non-existent, but you revel in getting to try. Of course you know Xaden knows that, and is taking advantage of it to get you to stop bugging him for a human corpse. For the time being, you'll do him the favor.

Xaden side-steps the dead horse and heads for the entrance. "And don't leave your fucking corpses laying in everyone's way," he calls back over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes at the way he makes it sound as if you're a child leaving their toys laying around. Then again, he's not entirely wrong. You tap into the stream of energy from Rexus, directing it into the dead animals and letting them walk into a corner of the courtyard, where you let them drop dead again.

Rexus was surprisingly silent while you waited for your brother, but now he's asking you to come see him.

"I have a surprise for you," he says when you ask why.

"Did you kill someone for me to practice on?"

You're joking — mostly. With Rexus you can never be sure. He doesn't reply, but you can feel his amusement. When you reach your dragon, there's a brown heap of bloody fur laying at his feet. It almost looks like—

"Is that a bear?!"

"Yes."

"For me?"

"You wanted something bigger than a horse, didn't you?"

"So you went and killed a bear?"

"If you don't want it I'll just eat it," he says with a mental shrug.

"Don't you dare! You can bet your scaly ass I want it!"

You're already reaching for your power to try and reanimate the bear. This is going to be fun.

[emperor-of-blood]

I think the hardest part about classpecting this group is going to be that I've read the whole manga but only half the show has come out. I'm going to avoid spoilers to the best of my ability for the aniem-only folks.

I guess I might just have to imply some of the stuff for later lol.

Anyways, let's dive right in starting with Marcille Donato!!

Our elven friend here plays a very interesting role in the little group! With Falin's absence, she's the only mage in the party (I suppose you could count Laios one he starts learning) and she's also quite often the "Straight man" of the group, being the voice of reason amongst a bunch of weirdos. That being said she has her fair share of wackiness! For one thing, she specializes in dark magic! It seems she mainly knows how to make stuff explode, some healing spells, some miscellaneous buff magic, and then a whole bunch of forbidden mumbo jumbo.

She is shown to be both caring and intelligent and is instrumental on the quest to rescue Falin. Probably her most notable moment comes when she finally gets the chance to employ some of that illegal magic and revive Falin.

With that out of the way:

Marcille is...

A Bard Of Doom!!!!

One who destroys [Doom]/one who invites destruction through [Doom]

Now, if you're done laughing, let's dig into this a bit more. Marcille very succinctly fulfills her role as Bard Of Doom, give me a chance to convince you. Take a look at Falin's revival. Marcille brings her back from the dead by employing forbidden magic; but she doesn't just undo her death, she undoes a death that is by and far insurmountable. This resurrection, whether purely her fault or not, results in Falin becoming a chimera and falling under Thistle's control. Shortly thereafter, Falin decimates the combined might of 4 adventuring parties.

As fun as these huge, all inclusive examples are, I also quite enjoy the more minor aspects that allude to her classpect. They're everywhere! For example: Marcille's distaste for eating monsters. Senshi's focus on the dungeon as an ecosystem. Marcille's constant resistance to participating in cycle this showcases how she continually tries to destroy the aspect of Doom in herself. She keeps herself removed from the cycle of life in the dungeon as much as possible.

There are more examples later on and unfortunately, I can't really go over them without spoiling the hell out of people. It really is a shame, but that's just how it is. So if you're anime-only, you'll just have to trust me. And if you've read the manga, then I'm sure you can instantly figure out what I'm talking about.

Alright folks! That'll be it for now, look forward to more soon! I'm planning on going thru the rest of the crew soon as well as answering some of the asks that have built up.

[vagabond-umlaut]

Mercury x Sulfur

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Arranged Marriage; Childhood Friendship To Complicated Feelings™️; Fluff, Angst, Explicit Smut [Oral Fem!Receiving; P-In-V; Loss Of Virginity; Praises]; Angst With A Happy Ending; Porn With Plot & Feelings™️; Contains Manga & Anime Spoilers. This is 18+ Content -> Minors & Ageless Blogs Please DNI!!!

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns [Can Be Treated As A Stand-Alone]

THE WEDDING NIGHT FIC NO ONE ASKED FOR YET I WROTE FT. PATHETIC GOJO & PATHETIC READER & THEIR BLURRY PATHETIC FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER... [I'VE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE, SO PLEASE BE KIND TO ME 🥹🥹]

Gojo Satoru is much too similar to fire, you suppose— so vivid always, so warm always, so protective always– yet not without the promise of destruction simmering within the sweet blue blaze of his eyes — Very much the reflection yet the contrast to how you resemble the air— so empty, so hollow, so fucking void.

Nice thoughts to think of yourself on your wedding night, aren't they?

Certainly not, you scoff inwardly, toying with the band of sapphire on your left hand. Yet... you cannot, or rather, do not do anything to stop them from sneaking past the defenses you've guarded yourself with– into that twisted, sick, pathetic mess of neurons and darkness you're ashamed to call your mind nowadays.

The noise of the shower tumbles into a sudden hush. An equally quiet sigh escapes you, fingers moving from your jewellery to trace the tiny floral design on the off-white gown– your brain somewhat registering the bathroom door being opened then shut.

"Y'know, mint ice cream might've be— whoa, is that my wife crying?"

Less than one nanosecond elapses before you find your perch on the edge of the bed being crowded by six-feet-three-inches of white hair, chiselled face, toned abs and worry— Oh My Fucking God, the worry swirling in those damned eyes of his— Mustering chuckles and grins, you move to scoot away from him, ready to brush your husband away with some half-baked something, when you feel him draw you closer and place two warm palms on the apples of your cheeks– both gentle and firm in the fashion they cradle your face— they cradle your entire being in this moment.

Cheer trickling away from your countenance, you hear him whisper in an unbelievably contrite tone, "You're mad because you did not get to eat the last piece of cake– because I stole it away, isn't it so? Y'know... we can always visit the bakery we ordered the cake from and I'll order the same flavour we chose for our wedding cake, and you can steal as many bites as you want from my plate— guess, that will make us kind of equals, huh?"

Equals, huh? Equals, huh? Equals. Huh?

"No," you snap, betraying the smile you've been struggling to keep on your lips, "We'll never be equals, Satoru. I mean, yeah— in dumb stuff like these, we might be equals or whatever you believe in. But, in life– do you really think we're going to be equals, huh? Do you think there'll ever be a reality, ever be a world where we might be equals, huh?"

Thumbs stilling over the tear tracks they were oh-so-very insistent on wiping away, he blinks at you. Once. Twice. Thrice— You groan, trying to remove yourself from the man whose mere presence is fermenting your inside. Searing your skin. Twisting and turning your mind into an even greater mess than it's ever been– One you know you cannot find yourself from, if once lost to.

Large fingers curling round your left ankle stop you in your attempts.

"I think so," Satoru offers softly, the unblemished smooth porcelain of his skin streaked with gravitas, you've seldom seen in the many years you've known him yet know becomes him too perfectly– You chuckle, shaking your head.

"This isn't only you and me. This is the world I'm talking about. This is our world I'm talking about. Do you really think they'll ever let a lady— married, that too— stand beside her husband, and not behind him?"

The grasp on your ankle loosens for a beat.

Something cracks and splinters and shatters within yourself.

Something you never knew existed before now— something you wish to ignore, so fucking desperately, now that you know it exists.

Shaky whoosh of pain leaving, you kick your foot free of the hold on it and scoot backwards on the mattress, screwing your eyes shut – as if them being closed will make you blind to the response your query has gathered by not gathering any at all— every iota in your body loathing the way your emotions well over and down your dusted cheeks— way too much, way too quick for your liking—

Large fingers curl round your left knee this time, preventing you from your retreat by pulling you towards their owner yet again — Little that does to dampen your efforts, though.

Or, the scald in that tender part in that tender mess of muscles and blood– pulses and impulses– you've never liked lots, for that matter.

"Let me go," you growl, legs shifting and flexing and extending to free themselves. The soft covers on the bed crinkle and crumple from the fight you put up against the forces reeling you in. "Let me go, Satoru," you snarl one more time, trying your best to keep your desperation in the cloth you've wrapped it in, not letting its pus leak into your words, "Let go of me, now. Satoru. Or, I swear— Gojo!!"

"Sweetness."

Some other reality and you think you might find this enticing. Loving, even, if you're being particularly, delusionally sappy then.

Yet, in this reality, in this moment, as you find yourself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off it whilst your husband traps the rest of your body beneath him, one good foot between him and your supine form — and he calls you that horrid nickname with that horrid smile– as if you're sweet like those kikufuku mochis he loves eating– and not the most sour, the most salty, the most bitter person he has ever met—

You let the fight seep from yourself into the horrible rose-scented air of the room, wretched wails clawing out instead of growls and snarls.

"I can't do this anymore, Satoru," you sob, chest heaving beneath the bodice of your gown, the pearl necklace snug on your skin stifling, "It is just so difficult— This world. This life. Everything is so fucking very difficult. And confusing. And demanding. And difficult— I cannot do- I cannot live this way with the entire world's eyes trained on me," you cry out; the stinging in your eyes, in your throat, in your soul growing worse with every other word you utter, "I simply cannot live with my–"

"And what if only my eyes are trained on you?" Satoru interrupts you, mouth set into thin lines; though the concern and affection sparkling in his gaze is unmistakeable, you note, peering up through your thick curtain of tears and emotions— being close friends since you were a pair of kids learning to read and write, does have its perks after all —

"Tell me, sweetness," A finger hooks under your chin to lift it up; your suffocating pearl necklace comes off within the next instant– "What if I told you, proved to you: you don't need to worry yourself with any person; anyone, anywhere, anytime in your life; not when they aren't a part of your world—" A sturdy arm hooks under your back this time, lifting you with ease off the bed, until you're in your husband's strong grip: loose to not give you any degree of discomfort yet tight enough for you to be assured he won't be dropping you—

You wrap your arms gingerly round his neck. He asks, dropping his voice to the lowest, to the gravest you've ever heard him, "What if I showed you, your world can consist only of us— only you and me— will you..."

He trails off suddenly, gaze darting to the side before it returns to you again— it's burning. Burning, burning, burning – Stoking a fire in your nerves, in your veins, in the pit of your lower belly, perhaps in the area nether to it too— Your husband's lips curve in the gentlest shape ever seen on him, quite betraying or, maybe, complimenting the hints and clues of that something, evident from the way his fingers flex on your back for the tiniest moment or the way the shadows of the night shift and morph in the brilliance of his gaze—

"You wanna prove to me w-whatever you said right now," you state in what Satoru calls your 'weather-reporter' voice. A brow rises before it returns to its place again– the man addressed nods. Solemn. Certain.

The muscles in your shoulders relax, opposing the muscles tautening elsewhere in your body– not from fear, no. Perhaps from anticipation, you reckon. Or, maybe it is from fear– except it isn't a fear of the man in front of you— The Strongest Sorcerer, capable of turning anything and everything, anyone and everyone, into dust if he so wishes to—

Except he doesn't. Never has. Not without a solid good reason— Oh, this sweet, sweet man— For once in your life, you decide not to stay dwelling on your thoughts, on your twisted, sick, pathetic mind— all for the sake of your husband, him looking at you as if you really are a delectable mochi he wants to devour.

Oh, what a sweet fool your husband is, isn't he?

Moving your hands from where they were resting on his nape to your front, wedging into the little space between Satoru's and your bodies, you inquire, choosing your words soft yet solemn, "And... are you sure you wanna do this tonight? That you won't be regretting—"

"I can do this tonight and every other night," Satoru replies, without letting you complete your query. Then grins, loads like that shy boy, you remember, attempting to befriend you with a pebble– blue and white and blue, years back when you still pronounced 'star' as 'tar'.

You let your palms face away from your chest to rest on his— still, so warm and uncovered from the shower he took— still so, so open and vulnerable to you, in spite of the slashes and gashes dear friends like you, like that damn boy, have only ever given him— He asks, "Do you wanna let me do this?"

A slow yet sure nod is the only thing you manage to offer him in reply.

That slow yet sure nod's also the only thing remaining crystal-clear in your mind— besides, obviously—

Those kisses, so shaky yet so fiery, pressed onto your lips, your chin, the hollow of your neck, the valley between your breasts, down down down, until they reached your thighs— And they grew less of adoring and more of wanting– with muffled moans and withheld whimpers— your lips constantly forming the syllables of your husband's name, as the man himself suckled purple splotches of his desire onto the flesh out there— Besides, obviously—

The sharp gasp of breath your husband made when he tasted you for the first time and you felt shame flood every nook and cranny of your naked body — how the gown or the lingerie were removed from your torso, you've no clue...—before the shame swelled into something far different, far pleasurable, with every lick, every nibble, every hum and every groan muffled into your sensitive tissue and bundle of nerves— steady in the beginning but rapidly growing in intensity, frequency or must you say ferocity, with every moment he spends with his head in between your legs—

And you came. Embarrassed. Ecstatic. Experiencing everything lying on the spectrum between them. Onto his waiting tongue, over his—

"Ah! S-Satoru–"

You're ripped back to the present by the feel of him entering you.

The stretch hurts— as much as you've read in books, as much as you have been told in extremely discreet terms by the older women in the clan— but never once has this feeling been described to you to be- so fucking perfect, so fucking right— as the one flooding your senses in this very instant—

Two blue eyes lift from where they were squeezed close against your forehead, slick with the sheen of sweat, blinking down at you with so much care, you think you may burst from how much of it you note in them hues— the dams holding your tears back sure do, increasing in the degree they allow your emotions gush out, courtesy of the palms mapping your flushed cheeks, caressing your flushed cheeks, almost as if you're some porcelain doll.

"Hey, hey, hey," Satoru croons, pausing himself entirely– despite the toll it takes on him, visible from the way his face scrunches for a tiny moment before wrinkling into lines of worry and apology again– "It's hurting, isn't it?" he asks, then lowers his voice to a whisper, directed more at himself than at you if its rambling quality is anything. "Fuck," he curses, removing his palms from your face, and curling them into tight fists on either side of your face, "This was my first time. And I— I, I know I should have been more careful, still I went and fucked up–"

"Satoru," you say, blinking your tears away, splaying your fingers onto the smooth planes of his cheeks, hoping he'll quieten on noticing the small smile on your lips.

"– caused you pain, oh fucking hell–"

When is he going to shut up?

"Satoru," you try again, tone growing more insistent than the previous time, fingers moving up to scratch the backside of his ears — to trace the shell of his ears.

"– I was so fucking ignorant, selfish–"

Is he ever going to shut up?

"'Toru!" you exclaim with a mild tug on his hair. That seems to be your trick in shutting him up— though you don't miss the way the muscles in his arms flex nor the way his fists grow tighter at your action. Smile widening on your lips, watching him train every bit of his attention on you, and only you; you pull him down for a small kiss— a desperation you've been trying to ignore for a while now– blooming in the motion of your mouth against his, with his—

Perhaps, from the way you hate him blaming himself for doing totally nothing wrong. Perhaps, from the way you detest the lack of friction, his irrational rambling has created down there where you want it, you need it the most— Perhaps, from a mix of both these reasons.

Removing yourself a touch from him, you whine into the plushness of his lips, breathless, dizzy, needy, "Move, Satoru. I think I can take it— Oh, that's it, Satoru," your words taper off into a breathy sigh, "F-fuck—"

In retrospect, you reckon you'll be mortified, probably to death, when you'll let your mind drift back to tonight's events in the future– to how messy you sound with your moans, how messy you possibly look with your makeup smudged from tears and sweat— yet, now— in this very second, you deem you're having the best time of your life.

With Satoru's constant grunts and moans of "Fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetness" and incessant chants of "This– you, you're mine– only mine, as I'm yours"— With him drowning your skin in long, lavish kisses and suckles— With him toying with your hardened nipples and giving your breasts a deliciously painful squeeze—

But, mostly, with the way your husband fits you– so snug, so tight, so warm– every drag of his hip against yours sending a jolt of electricity through your nerves, making your heels dig deeper into his back, and your hold tighter round him, nails raking across his undercut, eliciting a pleased groan from him– though, they're no match for those noises you make when he hits that spot inside, again and again and again, a rapidly growing precision in every next thrust—

"'T-Toru– I'm close- sooo close," you whimper, nuzzling your nose into his neck, breathing in his scent— musky, sweaty, sultry— "Just a little more, sweetness," Satoru begs, keeping an arm beneath your back to pull you even closer to himself— as if that is possible anymore— "You are squeezing me so well— oh fuck."

Your walls clench round him particularly tightly, signalling to you that you're indeed very, very close— despite the haze of pleasure steadily building over your gaze, you wear a fond smile at the half-lidded look he pins on you, his mouth hanging open, whilst his palm presses into your lower back. Subtly trembling, yet so anchoring.

You decide this is your new favourite look of The Six Eyes, the former being the staggered look he gives your smug grin whenever you best him in a fight.

He really is sweet, isn't he?

Another moan permeates into the air, into your thoughts, punctuated by your husband brushing his lips with yours. They are soft— as does every other facet of him feel to you. Movements growing sloppier yet faster, he heaves a husky sigh into your ear, teeth grazing its shell.

"You're really perfect, y'know," he all but whines with a rather dragged out snap of his hips with yours— Eyes fluttering close from the action tightening the coil in your lower belly, you force out a weak chuckle. "I know that I'm per— Oh Sato— mmph!"

Your climax hits you.

Hard, harsh and unforgiving— the wave of euphoria it wreaks through your body is, streaking your vision with nonsensical streaks of colours and cloaking your ears with a deafening ringing— your only tether the soft pair of lips gently coaxing you to dance with it to a melody you've never heard— but hope can hear and learn in the years left in your life— until you're back in the large bed of your hotel room, body sore and and tingling, but in a pretty satisfied and happy way— at least, till you notice your husband scooting away from you to the edge of the bed.

Wha–How–When did he get from being inside you to there—

"Hey, no!" you protest, dragging him down to lie on top of you. Satoru looks at you, shock evident in the way he slowly blinks— You plaster a mighty frown on yourself, asking him, worried, "Where are you going? You haven't fini—"

"But I have finished," your husband answers your incomplete ask with a frown to match yours— before a confused moment passes and you find his frown slowly melt away into a million-watt beam, him asking, "Didn't you feel me come too then, sweetness? Or, did I give you that good an orgasm that you were numb to everything else then, huh?"

Embarrassment flushes through your body at your husband's teasing remark. Ignoring it, you clear your throat to hum back with a smile, "I guess that was the case, yeah. You were really nice tonight— thanks." Then add, watching him open his mouth, the familiar gloom of regret threatening to dim his happiness, "And don't worry about then— I too— This was my first time too, and, um," you wish you could look away for a beat to regain your composure but the sparkles gleaming in the blue eyes gazing at you, are so magnetic— you continue with a laugh, sheepish, staring back at him, "I might have overreacted to the pain."

Whatever chuckle you were expecting never comes; rather, a tender kiss arrives on each of your eyelids, and on the tip of your nose. Your lips part in a content smile, widening on hearing the query sent your way.

"And was I just as great at proving to you what I promised to, huh?"

Your mind races back to then— the dark hollow plaguing you before he arrived. You pull it back to now— the radiance of your husband in every minute portion of your soul, filling it with a cosiness you know only he can impart to you.

"You so were," you're quick to hum back your agreement, paired with a peck to his lips, as he positions himself to lie comfortably atop you. He's quite a bit heavy, what with being so buff and tall– but you think you don't really mind it— not when he's incomparably better than the weighted blankets you've always liked sleeping with.

A hand rises to card through your tangled hairstyle, separating every strand from the other, carefully and gently— you wonder if he knows he does the same to your tangled thoughts too, unknotting them via few select words and few select gestures—

"You've the 'philosopher' face on," your husband's entertained remark interrupts your cloud of thoughts– you drag your eyes from that scar in his throat– one which never fails to throttle whatever sense of safe you might've developed– to the hues before, far more gleaming than the sapphires sitting on your fourth finger can ever be—

Satoru smiles. That annoying, understanding, endearing smile of his, which only serves to show just how much he has been forced by life to be matured. And murmurs.

"We're really equals in this partnership, y'know? You can always share with me whatev—"

"Is it wrong of me to compare you to fire and me to air?"

Your simple question catches The Strongest Sorcerer off-guard- you gather from the way his eyes widen and his heartbeat stutters a little over the bare flushed skin of your chest— you wonder if you must be happy at this silly victory or be worried, you have such a hold on him—

Something tells you, he won't mind either one of them — taking each into stride with a pitiful pout or a cheerful chuckle — the exact same way letting your inquiry settle into him, he responds with a grin in too short a span of time.

"Nope! Not at all!" Satoru exclaims, grin growing and digging dimples into his cheeks. "Obviously I'm fire! Have you seen me? I'm so fucking sizzling hot!" Despite the fondness swelling in your heart, you make a big show of rolling your eyes and moving to scoff — except that scoff remains lodged in your throat and gets swallowed by a gasp of shock as you find yourself being flipped over, so that it's you who is lying on the top now.

Grin growing freer and truer, your husband pulls you impossibly close to himself – so much so that the bounderies separating you from him begin to blur in your eyes; and resumes—

"And you, sweetness, of course, are air– without whose 21% oxygen, the fire cannot even be ignited in the first place."

I do not own the characters or the image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

SINCE THIS IS AN EXPLICIT FIC, I'M NOT TAGGING MY USUAL TAGLIST. INSTEAD, I WANNA MENTION FEW PPL [TAKING A LEAF OUT OF UR BOOK, SEL]— WHO HV SHOWN AN INTEREST IN THIS FIC WHILE IT WAS BEING WRITTEN, & HAVE ALSO ENCOURAGED AND MOTIVATED ME LOADS!! TYYY SM U AWESOME PPL!!!! 🥰🥰 [AND ALSO TO U, DEAR READER, FOR REACHING THE FOOTNOTES OF THE FIC!!]

TAGLIST: @moniheartz, @shotorus, @sukunassuka, @ancient-vivarium, @saenora, @avatarofstars!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ [THERE ARE MANY OTHERS TOO, WHO HV LIKED MY RAMBLING POSTS– I PROMISE I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN Y'ALL. ILYSM 😭😭😭]

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter fifteen

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

Once the crew got past Reverse Mountain, the lot of you ran into a gigantic whale, which ended up swallowing all of you.

Inside the whale's stomach, you met an old man Crocus, the keeper of the lighthouse and caretaker of the whale, who's name was Laboon.

He told you the story of Laboon's previous owners, and how he was stuck there until their return. 

And while telling the story, these two weirdos, who went by the names of Miss Wednesday and Mr. 9, tried killing Laboon.

Luffy beat them up easily, and got into a fight with the whale, promising to return so they could have a rematch.

And now here you were, the entire crew laid out on the floor after the roughest patch of sea you've ever faced.

Well, not the entire crew.

"C'mon. The weather's nice and all but that's not a reason to be lazy," Zoro scoffed, having just woken up from his nap.

"I'll kill you," you groaned, your voice dangerous.

He turned to Miss Wednesday and Mr. 9, who were also sprawled out on the ground.

"Oh, you guys are still here."

He crouched down, the both of them abruptly sitting up with fearful expressions.

"Wanna tell me what were your strange names were again? 'Cause I don't think that you can be trusted."

"Well," Mr. 9 shakily started, "I'm called Mr. 9."

"And I'm called Miss Wednesday," Wednesday answered as well, her smile faltering.

"Right. You know those names sound familiar, and that's what's bothering me. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I'm certain I've heard them somewhere before. Or maybe I—" you interrupted his rant by punching him in the back of the head, hard.

"You think your lazy ass can just sleep while we do all the work?! You're lucky I didn't throw you overboard!" you scolded, angry.

"Ow! What's the matter with you, woman?!" he exclaimed, rubbing the large knot on his head.

You answered his question by punching him in the same spot twice more, leaving him clutching his head in pain.

"Listen up, everyone! There's no way to know what's gonna happen next. During the terror most of us experienced, I came to an understanding of why this sea is named the Grand Line. My navigation skills are useless here, but mark my words I will guide us through!" Nami announced, proudly.

"Umm... okay. You sure, Nami?" Usopp asked.

She smiled, turning to look out at the distance, "Without a doubt.

"And speaking of which. We're here. Our first journey on the Grand Line comes to an end."

Everyone turned to see the island not too far ahead.

Whiskey Peak.

The island was covered with humongous cacti, some of which stretching up past the clouds.

"This is unlike any landscape I've ever seen," Sanji stated, impressed.

"Those cactus are humongous!" Luffy shouted.

Just then, Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday jumped onto the rail of the Merry.

"Thank you but we must be leaving," he smirked.

"It's been an interesting ride to say the least," she agreed.

"Bye, bye, baby!"

And with that, they jumped off, back-flipping into the ocean and swimming to shore on their own.

"Buncha weirdos," you scoffed, crossing your arms.

"I guess we'll never learn what those nutjobs were up to," Usopp shrugged.

"Eh, who cares. We're landing!" Luffy smiled.

"There's a waterway right up to the shoreline. It looks like we can go inland by ship," Nami pointed.

"Um, am I the only weighing the possibility of monsters on that island?" Usopp began to shake, nervous.

"It's possible. This is the Grand Line," you shrugged, "Even if there are it's not like we can leave."

"Huh? Why not?" Luffy asked, confused.

"Don't you guys remember what Crocus said. The Log Pose needs enough time to record the islands magnetic field so we have to stay put. The Log Pose needs a different amount of time for each island so some may take a few hours while other may take several days," Nami explained.

You continued up the waterway, a dense fog rolling in and covering up the view of the port.

But as the lot of you got closer, you could her a faint sound.

Faint, but distinct.

"Is that—?"

As the fog cleared, a crowd of what looked like the entire island could be seen gathered at the docks, all cheering and celebrating. 

"Greetings and good tidings, travelers!" a man shouted.

"Welcome to Whiskey Peak!" another agreed.

"These aren't monsters. They're people. And they actually look happy to see us," Usopp stated, getting out of his defensive stance and lifting his goggles.

"What the hell's wrong with them?" Sanji asked.

"Pirates are always welcome in our town!" A random woman cheered, whipping around a flag

"Hooray for the heroes of the sea!"

"Hey!" Luffy cheered, sitting down on the head of the Merry.

"This is fishy," you stated bluntly, standing cross-armed next to Zoro.

"Definitely. I'd keep my guard up," he nodded, resting his hand on the hilt of his swords.

"Agreed."

After an entire day and night of partying, the crew was out cold, each asleep with a blissful smile on their faces.

You kept to yourself the entire night, distrusting of the villagers odd hospitality to pirates.

And luckily, that led you here, sitting on a rooftop next to Zoro, as the villagers below plan to raid your ship and murder your crew mates.

Not only that, but it was Zoro who revealed that they were actually a part of some giant criminal organization, all based on bounties and assassinations.

"You mind if I watch?" you smirked, crossing your legs and resting your cheek in your palm.

"Not at all," he smirked back, disappearing from the roof and appearing in the center of all the agents.

"Alright, then. Gimme a good show!" you smiled.

And what proceeded was a long, and hilarious, battle between Zoro and the hundred and some change criminals.

Each one had their own goofy weapon, and each one would get swiftly taken out upon entry, mostly because of their own doing.

"We got you now, girl!" a small fry shouted as he and a group of his friends came running up behind you.

"This'll teach you to mess with Baroque Works!"

"God's Messenger: Army and Point," you stated, not taking your eyes off Zoro's fight.

A large amount of your feathers detached, stabbing and slicing the men like knives with a mind of their own.

Once all of them were down, your feathers returned to you, softening back to normal.

"Will you idiots give it a rest? You're way out of your league," you rolled your eyes.

As you continued to watch the fight, the gears in your head began to turn, and you realized the opportunity put before you.

'If these guys are part of an intelligence agency, then maybe one of them knows something about Doflamingo.'

You turned to the curly-haired guy, Igara-something was his name. 

He seemed to be the leader of the small fry.

'Perfect.'

You quickly stood up, unfurling your wings and flying down into the battle, kicking away the mayor's saxophone gun and grabbing him by the collar.

"I'm stealing one, Zoro!" you called as you began to fly straight into the air.

"Find by me!" he shrugged, pushing a bunch of the agents off a ladder.

"What are you doing?! What do you want?!" the man frantically shouted, growing more and more fearful as you flew him higher and higher.

"I'm gonna make this real plain and simple, got it? You tell me what I wanna know, and I won't drop you," you started, your expression stone cold.

"But... you tell me somethin' I don't like," you smirked, "and I'll drop you so hard they'll be scrapin' your remains off the road for weeks."

"Okay! Okay! What do you wanna know?! I'll tell you anything!" he cried, his shaky hands gripping onto your wrists for dear life.

"Tell me where I can find Doflamingo," you ordered, tightening your grip on his collar.

"Doflamingo? I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about! Please you have to believe me! I don't know who that is!" he blubbered.

You smirked, let out a quiet chuckle.

"Damn, Igarrapoi," you started, outstretching your arms.

"That was somethin' I didn't like."

"No, wait! Please! I—!" But before he could plead any more, you dropped him, his body landing one top of a couple of other agents.

He wouldn't be dead, but he'd be battered a good bit.

'Can't kill him for not knowing. But he did plan to kill my crew mates so most of that was deserved.'

"Ya done up there?" Zoro called, sitting himself down on the edge of a different rooftop.

"Yeah, I'm done," you sighed, flying down and sitting next to him.

"The guy had what you're looking for?" he asked.

"Nope. Another dead end," you huffed, glaring at the mayor's body, who seemed to be talking to someone in the alleyway, along with Miss Wednesday and Mr. 9.

"Don't let it discourage you. The further we get on the Grand Line, the more information you'll be able to find," he nodded, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder.

You smiled, a faint red tint rising to the apples of your cheeks.

"Anyway, you think our captain'll be alright. I left 'im down there with those weirdos," he asked, removing his hand.

You were already beginning to miss its warmth.

"Wait, Luffy's down there?" you asked, looking over the ledge to see that Luffy was indeed there, fat and passed out in a wheelbarrow.

Suddenly, the mayor jumped up and pulled the strings of his bowtie, sending a barrage of bullets towards the man and woman he was talking to.

And Luffy was caught dead smack in the middle.

"Dammit. Luffy's trapped," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"We better go do something about it," Zoro begrudgingly stood up, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade.

"Right behin—" Just then, a gigantic explosion ripped through the gunfire.

And when the smoke cleared, the mayor lay unmoving on the ground.

'This is too much.'

"I've had enough fun for one night," Zoro grumbled, jumping down from the roof and grabbing Luffy by the shirt, dragging him off.

You looked down at the scene again, cocking a brow as the mayor called Miss Wednesday Princess Vivi.

Mr. 9 tried to protect her, but the dread-headed guy picked his nose and shot a booger at the poor guy, blowing him up.

"That's disgusting," you grimaced, shuddering at the thought of explosive boogers.

'Now wait a second. Intelligence agency... secret princess... kingdom in danger... I think I'm starting to get the gist of what's happening around here.'

Flying over the dramatic scene happening with the princess, you met up with Zoro and Nami, who seemed to be arguing over money while the mayor lay on the floor, helpless.

You landed and squatted down to his level, him lifting his head to see you.

"Igara-guy," you started, serious, "Would the princess, or the king of this Alabasta place, know anything about Doflamingo?"

His eyes went wide, and he coughed up a little bit of blood, "I am almost certain that Princess Vivi knows nothing of this Doflamingo you speak of, but King Cobra should surely know."

You smirked, standing up straight.

"Well then, can't let my map die."

You managed to catch up with the princess only to see the exploding-booger guy fire a pretty big one at her.

Quickly, you swooped down and hit it away with your mace, sending it flying and exploding in mid-air.

"Gross! I just hit someone's snot!" you exclaimed, tongue out in disgust.

"You! Don't you pirates give up! Leave me alo—!" you quickly stopped the princess' spinning toy and turned to her, seriously.

"Relax. I'm here to help," you assured, firmly.

"Help?"

"I take it that you must be a part of that swordsman's crew. The one that beat up all the lowly employees stationed here," the blonde woman with the umbrella smiled.

"Why would you wanna protect the princess of Alabasta?" the booger-man asked.

"I have my reasons," you glared.

"Well one way or another we're gonna have to eliminate you. You're in our way."

"Aww, what a shame!" the blonde woman laughed. 

Booger-man stuck his finger up his nose, and you got yourself ready for another attack, until Luffy and Zoro suddenly burst through a house, fighting.

Your eyes went wide.

"Huh?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING?!" you shouted, angry.

"ZORO BEAT UP THE NICE TOWNSPEOPLE THAT GAVE US FOOD!" Luffy shouted, sending the swordsman flying into another building.

'My captain cannot be this stupid.'

"LUFFY, YOU DUMBASS, THEY'RE THE BAD GUYS! THEY TRIED TO KILL US!" you scolded.

But he ignored you, and instead got sent flying into the blonde woman and the booger man, knocking them into another house. 

After about five more minutes of the two knocking the sense out of each other, and the bad guys, you had had enough. 

"WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS QUIT IT!" you shouted, flying over and slamming the two of their heads together, stopping their fight. 

"You people... are insane," the princess gaped. 

"What the hell is wrong with you two?! You're lucky you guys kept her safe during your shenanigans, otherwise I could've lost out on some VERY important information!" 

"Huh? Information?" the princess asked, confused.

"In exchange for delivering you home safely, you're gonna bring me to your dad where we can discuss some things," you stated.

"I... uh... umm—" "Deal? Deal," you smiled, interrupting her.

"(y/n), that hurt," Luffy sniffled, clutching his head. 

"You're lucky I didn't hit you two harder!" 

"Tch... Crazy woman," Zoro huffed, nursing his new welt.

[dustbunnylair]

Jujutsu Kaisen And It's Popularity Giving The Fanbase a Bad Reputation (JJK Spoilers)

Jujutsu Kaisen has currently become extremely popular not just in Japan, but also in Western Countries. At first, I wasn’t too concerned about it gaining popularity, I’ve been a fan since the first season was animated so I was quite glad it was gaining a fanbase. I really didn’t care if Gojo was getting popular, that’s fine, but it started to concern me when I realized people are debating over what ships are and aren’t canon.

First off, let’s go over the definition of shipping. Shipping is when people in a fandom or fanbase of fictional media start shipping fictional characters within that fictional media. But within shipping, it is EXTREMELY important to note that shipping characters are only valid when it is fictional characters, legal, and nontoxic. This means pedophilia, incest, abusive, etc. relationships are invalid within shipping.

In Japan, the top ships are mostly illegal. Shipping minors with adults, eg; Gojo x Yuji, Gojo x Megumi, Sukuna x Megumi, Choso x Yuji (also incestual), etc. But in my opinion, specifically within the US, the top ships are probably SatoSugu (Gojo x Geto), NobaMaki (Nobara x Maki), ItaFushi (Megumi x Yuji), along with less popular ships that are more likely to be canon such as HaKira (Hakari X Kirara), and a very wholesome and canon one, ToMema (Toji x his wife)

Honestly like I said I don’t care if Gojo is popular or not, I think the only problem is that almost if not all of everyone likes him because he’s strong, which is also literally the reason people like him in JJK. I don’t really care if people sexualize him or say SOMEWHAT sexual things, I do think people take it too far within comments, but if it’s only somewhat sexual there’s really nothing you can do about it because he is 28 years old.

Gojo and Geto are very well-written characters, lore-wise. Technically they are platonic soulmates. I think the only excuse I’ve seen for people not liking SatoSugu is that Gojo is confirmed to show attraction to women, which isn’t a lie. He is attracted to an actual celebrity, Waka Inoue, or I guess, was, because he was 16-17 during his past arc. But following up that “theory” of him showing attraction to women, is that people can be attracted to both men and women, hence bisexuals, pansexuals, etc. Gojo is ALSO confirmed to be a womanizer because he is NOT loyal.

Another thing anti-SatoSugu shippers say to claim Gojo isn’t lgbtq+ or whatever, is that best friends exist.

…Because we didn’t already know that. Honestly, I think people forget headcanons exist. Headcanons are when someone believes or interprets something about a character, for example: thinking they are trans, gay, lgbtq+, neurodivergent, etc. It doesn’t mean that it is genuinely true and/or confirmed by the creator. 

And to follow up with people hating on SatoSugu, that the season 2 Gojo Past Arc argument scene, aka Geto’s last goodbye to Gojo, aka KFC break up/dumping scene. it is a real location in Shinjuku, Japan:

Not to mention that the day that they both died, December 24th, is Japan’s Valentines' Day and KFC is a meal that couples get on that day. During the afterlife scene in the Manga, chapter 236, Gojo says to Geto, “Satisfied? If you were among those patting my back... then I might've been satisfied,”. Some songs that are played and directed at Gojo and/or Geto, have very meaningful lyrics:

“Shame On Me” by Avicii (One of the two Gojo’s theme songs named by Gege)

Shame on me for lovin’ you

That’s what I get for lovin’ you;

You know I can’t live without you;

And all the things you put me through

are you baptized and born again? 

I’ma raise hell for the bitter end;

I’m a crazy little bitch in the first degree, 

shame on you for loving me.

Come Back Home by Two Door Cinema Club (One of Geto’s themes that Gege said was)

I know this isn't it

You'll hit your target someday

So now you're on your own

Won't you come back home

To see you're not that kind

And find the strength, to find the strength

To find another way

Alone Tonight by Munrai (a song specifically written for an official Geto + Gojo promotional video)

If I came to your place tonight, would you let me in?

Sakayume by King Gnu (A song played in Jujutsu Kaisen 0 portrayed towards Rika and Yuta’s relationship but also how Geto feels toward Gojo)

I'll dive into the sea of memories

And pick up the pieces of my love

And keep them in you forever.

Where Our Blue Is by Tatsuya Kitani (The first opening of Season 2 of Jujutsu Kaisen, is written from Gojo’s perspective, confirmed here: https://x.com/skanaaa_/status/1690104150045184000?s=20)

Even now, blue resides

Even now, blue remains clear

No matter the prayers or words

Though they draw near, they never reach

It's like a quiet love

In the summer-like colors running down my cheeks

The words that curse you are stuck in the back of my throat

Akari by Soushi Sakiyama (first ending for Season 2 of Jujutsu Kaisen, the lyrics “Show me your blushing face once more” is confirmed to be Gojo speaking to Geto from an interview, the interview is here

Realizing that something seemingly everywhere

Exists only here

Even trivial conversations are fine

Show me your blushing face once more

SPECIALZ by King Gnu, The letters used in the lyrics “I love you 6a6y” are speculated to likely represent Gojo and Geto, hinting at Gojo’s six eyes. the lyrics "get 1○st iπ 31" can be related to Geto and 31st October when the Shibuya Incident took place. Daiki Tsuneta later confirmed in a TV show called 日曜日の初耳学 that the lyrics were indeed intentional; in this specific manner: "get 1○＝夏油/Geto, st＝悟/Satoru, 1○ 31＝10月31日/October 31st, get 1○st iπ 31＝get lost in me(我に返る)"

n short, people think that because the fandom and/or fanbase of Jujutsu Kaisen are shipping illegal ships, over-sexualizing characters, arguing over legal/non-problematic ships, arguing what is and isn't canon, or arguing about who is and isn't gay, the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom/fanbase is slowly turning into the My Hero Academia Fandom. Honestly, it isn’t too far off, and it’s unfortunate that Jujutsu Kaisen is getting a bad reputation. Unfortunately, anything that gets popular on social media, especially TikTok, will have bad sides of the fanbase/fandom. 

All things aside the over-sexualization of adult characters, shipping illegal ships, people arguing over simple legal ships, and arguing what is and isn't canon or who is and isn't gay. Shipping legal ships and having non-offensive headcanons, isn’t wrong, and it shouldn’t always be looked down upon. If someone is shipping characters way too far and telling someone to harm themselves because they don’t agree with a ship, then yes, that is something we should look down upon. Shipping can also be platonic, hence why people call Geto and Gojo both soulmates AND platonic soulmates. 

To be honest, I think the only people I’ve seen hate on SatoSugu are straight cismen or straight people in general, people who can't handle that gay ships will exist at times, and/or SuguShoko (Geto x Shoko) Shippers and GojoHime (Gojo x Utahime) Shippers. It’s fine if you disagree with it and still continue to respect other people for their opinion on the ship, but if you are just gonna talk about what is and isn’t canon I will believe you live in a world of delusion. If you wanna talk about what is and isn't canon Utahime despises Gojo, she would never get with him and Gege said Shoko would rather die than get with Geto and/or Gojo.

Thanks for listening to my yapping. Please respect others’ ships as long as it isn't a pro/comship, and just respect people in general, unfortunately, the world doesn’t do that enough, especially on social media.

[aihoshiino]

It was obvious Ai loved him…but seeing it said on screen still makes it tragic…i almost felt i had a lump in my stomach Hikaru could've been alright if they just had a happy family together but no 😭😭 with the dvd now revealed, do you think Ai would've gotten back together with Hikaru if she knew that "I can't love you" was a lie? Even as a family i feel like that's a possibility now

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, ngl… now we have the full context of the HKAI breakup and a better overall understanding of their r/s dynamic, I've actually been thinking about their first on-scree conversation in episode/volume 1 - where Ai speaks to him on the payphone. I'd always kind of zeroed in on it as important because it was the one and only time pre-flashback that we'd gotten an actual exchange between the two of them, one sided as it was. And I was especially always really curious about the "No, I'm not trying to get back together" line because it implies A Lot even when we just hear Ai's words.

And now that we know that the HKAI relationship was 1) so unhealthily codependent that Earth's Most Autistic Creature, Ai Hoshino noticed and went mmm i gotta get the fuck outta here 2) ended by Ai herself and 3) Hikaru met that breakup attempt with LET'S GET MARRIED I think it makes it clear that the moment Ai reached out to him he immediately leapt to thinking there was a chance of them getting back together, probably out of pure wishful thinking. And Ai, realizing that he hadn't moved on or been able to grow past her, had to gently but firmly turn him down. And keeping in with that theme of miscommunication tragedies, they were probably both having a VERY different conversation:

What Ai meant: "[I know I'd just be a burden to you, especially with the twins and I don't want to put that weight back on you so] I'm not trying to get back together." What Hikaru heard: "[You're a burden and I can't bear the weight of putting up with you so of course] I'm not trying to get back together."

Minor sidebar, but Takahashi actually highlights that moment in particular during her interview in First Report, the anime guidebook (I promise I'll get it translated soon… I promise…!!!), noting that Akasaka actually gave her the full details as to the HKAI dynamic so she knew how to properly convey Ai's feelings for him at that moment (then noted that as a fan of the original manga she has very mixed feelings about getting spoilers… bless her LOL). So Ai's vocal delivery in that scene can also be considered a pretty big clue…

ANYWAY UH. My point is that I don't think they'd ever get back together unless Hikaru got his shit together and was more stable & less prone to clinging onto Ai at the first opening. She herself even says that they broke up because his obsession with her was consuming him and she wanted him to be able to stand on his own without her, because she thought that was better for him. It's possible that him and Ai being in each other's lives vis-a-vis the twins and Ai being more able to set boundaries (in hindsight, her turning him down is actually really good progress for her!) he could've developed a more healthy relationship with her, but his fixation on her then and in the present day is so all consuming I guess it's hard for me to imagine.

[erin-writes-ghost-fluff]

Cheater

A/N: Well, I guess this drabble wanted out before the bigger fic, I'm writing. No minors/under the age of 18 allowed. My fluff is not for you.

Fandom: Ghost

Characters: Grave, (OC) Copia

Warnings: Tickles, so if that's not your thing, you've been warned. RHRN spoilers

Italian translation: Zio- Uncle

~ ~ ~

The phooka growled, tail twitching, as Copia gained first place over her in the video game. He smirked triumphantly at the angry pout on her face, trying not to laugh as she vainly struggled to reclaim victory.

"You fuckin' cheated!" Grave accused finally, making Copia bark out a laugh.

"I didn't! It's not my fault you're shit at this game! Get good!"

"'Get good!'" Grave mocked in a shrill, high pitched voice, "piss mires and spiders be in your bed!"

He blinked before letting out another laugh, pausing the game, so he didn't get too distracted.

"Pfft-! What are piss mires?!" Copia giggled, unable to stop at the moment.

"Ants!" Grave explained, tail twitching, glaring at who she considered her uncle. Her nose and whiskers twitched irritably.

"Aww, c'mon!" He chuckled, ruffling her fur, "don't be sore! I'm not trying to offended you, it's just, eh... Your Irish sayings are funny! They're cute!"

Oh, so he thought she was funny, did he? He wanted to laugh?

"Zio, have you forgotten what happens when you offend The Fair Folk?"

...Copia didn't like that tone. He'd known this creature for ten years now and that inflection in her voice only meant one thing:

Mischief.

"Wait!" He attempted to bargain, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I-I'll get you some blackberries and-"

His rambling was cut off by a yelp he gave, as the phooka tackled him, sitting on his thighs. Now he really began to struggle but not too much. He'd let her have her fun of course. He always did. Still, Copia had to be just a little sassy.

"As your superior, head of The Ministry, and your uncle, I order you to let me go!"

Grave only snickered. "No." She declared simply, before he felt her little raccoon claws softly scratch the sides of his belly.

The former front man exploded back into loud laughter, thrashing his legs in an attempt to throw her off.

"No! Not this! I hate it!" He whined through his giggles, which grew louder as each second passed.

"That's a lie!" Grave pointed out, causing a light dusting of pink to spread across his cheeks.

Copia didn't dare respond to such a statement aloud. His laughter grew squeakier as she gently kneaded and pinched his stomach. Strength was already depleting from the poor man, evidenced by his attempts to grab Grave's wrists and shove them away, but could only hold them.

He wheezed when she suddenly switched spots, claws quickly scurrying up his ribs.

"AH! Don't!" He squeaked, clamping his arms down, trapping her hands.

The phooka began to giggle alongside him, finding his laughter contagious as always. Despite everything since Terzo and his brothers were killed, despite the hardships, the sorrow, and the tears, she and Copia always found a way to have fun. He had become as attached to her as Terzo had been.

These last few weeks had been exceedingly rough on him. He fluctuated between waves of grief and anxiety over his new promotion as Frater Imperator . Sister's ghost wasn't exactly helping. But he knew he could count on Grave to raise his spirits. Just as she was doing now.

Copia nearly hit the ceiling when he felt her nibble and gnaw at his ribs like a starved animal. He nearly screamed in shock, cackling uncontrollably.

"Learned your lesson, old man?" Grave asked, a wide grin on her face.

"I'm not old!" He argued with a snort.

"Hmmm, debatable!" She spontaneously changed tickle spots again, her claws now going for his thighs, touch still gentle as she squeezed.

He guffawed, having quite the fit as she never stayed in one spot, always changing every few seconds.

"Fine, fine! I'm sorry!" He squeaked. "Mercy! Mercy!"

Satisfied, Grave ceased all attacks, and moved off of him before grabbing a handful of chips, and stuffing them in her mouth.

"You're a menace!" Copia groaned, sitting up. "I'll get you for this!"

She waved a dismissive hand.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever! I'll cross that bridge when I get to it! Let's just continue the game, eh?"

Copia glared at the creature playfully, picking up his controller with a mocking scoff. She was a gremlin but she was his gremlin.

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

Here’s a long-overdue post about me and this blog.

My main is @necesitotequila.

In case you're wondering, I also have an Ao3.

• I will, as my username suggests, unapologetically shit-talk Sebastian Michaelis.

Eat grass, Seabass. 🐮

• Expect analysis, insights, shitposts, and whatever else I decide to post for my own amusement. You’re welcome.

• Reaper-focused, though I often have something to say about everyone and everything.

• This blog is not spoiler-free. Posts with spoilers will be tagged as such (“spoilers”).

• I love rare pairs and trite plot devices. Not to mention crack pairings, so expect the wackiest, most unexpected stuff to pop up from time to time.

• But remember: everything is legal and does not involve children or animals or anything downright disgusting - so I’m guessing we’re good.

• Occasionally, there will be nsfw as I also write quite a bit of smut. Do blacklist the tag if you are a minor or if such content makes you uncomfortable.

• Though only mutuals can directly message me as my settings are such, asks are always welcome as I would love to chat! :D

[asktheghosthost]

Some scattered thoughts on the 2023 HM movie

Maybe I'll do something more in depth later after the wide release and when I'm not so exhausted

But for now, here's some notes. There are a couple of minor spoilers, so I'll still put this under a read more. Be warned.

I really enjoyed the Easter eggs. I'm looking forward to getting the blu ray and pausing it every five seconds to see what I spy in the background.

Our mortal crew is very likable. Ben is definitely the stand out character for me. His arc is lovely and sympathetic and he almost made me cry.

I liked how the film approaches grief and loss and love. It felt sincere. And it was handled in a way that I think most kids would get, too. If anything, it may help open up conversations for some of the younger audience.

Lots of character cameos, and multiple new ghosts created just for the film. Really appreciated the new spirits. They fit right in. The extras and supporting cast playing these quirky ghosts were great. ... Pay them. Pay them what they're worth. You couldn't have this massive menagerie of the macabre without them

I've seen a lot of reviews say the jokes can fall flat. Most of them hit for me. "It'll cost you... three dollars," still made me giggle.

Hatty... I'm so glad Disney finally made a proper outright villain again. Not a twist villain. Just a straight up murderous, power hungry, manipulative, absolute asshole. It's been way too long. Pay your writers, and pay them well so we can get more of this.

The way the Mansion would change and rearrange itself was great. I love that the house is a character all on its own. It has a backstory. It's its own entity in a way. Love that. Properly pay your animators and special effects team, because their work is the only way that kind of thing is accomplished so well.

William Gracey is a total sweetheart and I love him. His backstory is actually super similar to Edward's, so that might bug some people. But he's different enough in his demeanor, I think, that maybe it won't be really obvious if you're not thinking that hard about it. But, yeah, there are a couple of things that feel repeated from the 2003 movie. I don't know how much of that to chalk up to tropes, or if it was some intentional reworking. This isn't a remake, it's still its own thing, but it's easy to see some inspiration from the previous film.

Loved Connie. No thoughts in that head except "WHACKITY-WHACK!" She's chaotically vicious for the sake of it, and that's fun. My perfect Constance is Debbie from Adam's Family Values. Or a slightly sympathetic schemer, for a more grounded route. But I'll take maniacal seriel killer Connie, too. One moment with her actually got the biggest laugh from me.

Thinking about it, it also borrowed plot elements from the 2003 video game, too. But did those elements better. For the most part.

That's all that's coming to mind right now. Might talk more about it later. I had a good time. I do recommend it. Are there things I'd do differently? Well, yeah. I still want something where the ghosts are the focus. But I guess I'll just provide that myself. And the IDW and SLG comics also give us that.

I look forward to discussing it more with the fandom once the film has been out a while longer. I think there'll be a lot of different opinions on it.

[albertonykus]

Doraemon Long Stories Vol. 1: Nobita's Dinosaur

Continuing my mission to (re)read all the Fujio-authored Doraemon works, it's time for the Doraemon Long Stories. This series was the basis for the Doraemon movies released in 1980–1997 (with the exception of The Record of Nobita's Parallel Visit to the West).

Given that I've already reviewed all the movies and they generally differ from their manga counterparts in only minor details, I was originally going to cover multiple Doraemon Long Stories volumes in each post, but I ended up having more to say about the manga than I anticipated, so I guess you're getting at least 17 more separate Doraemon posts. All of my followers are thrilled, I'm sure.

May contain spoilers below the break. My review of this story's movie adaptations can be found here.

Without a doubt, this is among the best-known Doraemon stories, and probably a sizable number of people who grew up with the franchise would name it as one of their favorites. As mentioned in my review of the movie adaptations, I generally think it's... decent. One of the reasons I'm not quite as enamored with this story as many others seem to be is the fact that it being the first attempt at a long-form Doraemon narrative really shows, not only from the perspective of the author but also for the characters.

Unlike many of the later entries in this series, the main characters don't set out with the intention of going on an adventure, and instead get stranded in the Cretaceous by accident. The story has to go the extra mile to come up with explanations for why some of Doraemon's most commonly used gadgets wouldn't solve the problem in this situation. The villains are defeated primarily through a combination of luck and plot-induced stupidity. None of these things would automatically ruin a story (tropes are tools, after all), but I've always thought the many of the later Doraemon Long Stories would integrate the adventure components in more natural and satisfying ways.

As far as differences between the manga and anime go, I was surprised by the number of "intimate" moments there were between Nobita and Shizuka in the manga. I tend to be under the impression that the anime likes to milk this element more than the manga, but neither of the movie adaptations had these scenes! Maybe the author wanted to achieve a more "theatrical" feel for this story.

I enjoyed seeing Doraemon spend a page in the manga discussing mammal evolution in the Mesozoic. This exposition was cut out of both movie adaptations. I understand why, as it has essentially no bearing on the plot, but it's always fun to see the franchise indulge in highlighting its scientific inspirations.

Having reread the manga, I've gained some fresh appreciation for the 2006 movie remake, as I now realize that it incorporates some components from the manga that the original movie didn't—perhaps most notably, a nice scene where Gian takes Nobita's side in a debate due to Nobita saving his life earlier. I may have been too harsh when I said that I couldn't "think of much reason" to recommend the 2006 remake over the original; the two movies may not have many major story differences, but I'd probably consider the remake a more solid movie overall for the changes it did include. That being said, I'd probably still rank the original movie above the remake as a Doraemon work just for its unique status as the first film in the franchise.

[priohuq]

Okay, this is gonna be the kinda post that probably none of you follow me for, but you do follow me and now you must reap the consequences of that decision.

I've been watching Blood+ recently. It's an anime from 2005 vaguely based on Blood: The Last Vampire.

That's all the background context I care to give here, you have access to the same wikipedia I do.

Minor spoilers and major rambling follow. So if you like anime about girls killing monsters with a katana, maybe go watch it first. I'll wait.

Recent episodes (Here meaning, episodes I saw recently, regardless of actual release date) haven taken place in London/The UK. And, I was quite surprised at how accurately it seems to portray the UK?

Burger King, beer and soccer all exist internationally, but who the hell knows about Boots outside the UK? (If it's actually very well known then I'm about to find out just how sheltered from humanity I am and cry a bit.)

I also noticed some of the background noise on the streets of London seemed to actually have English voices in it?? Could have just been a stock sound effect, or maybe one of the creators went so far as to actually go to the UK and recorded some audio while there. Either way, it's a level of detail I really didn't expect to hear. I also have no idea how to look into what actually happened behind the scenes, if such things are on record.

Anyway, I get to episode 35 and I see this building.

The sign is way too blurred for me to read, but something about this building makes a spark in my brain. The scene that follows this shot, taking place inside the building, suggests that it's some kind of taxidermy museum. I'd recently had a conversation with a friend, about a museum I'd get taken to as a kid, which also had a lot of taxidermy in it. So I guess it was on my mind. (If you're curious, it was the Horniman museum. The walrus there taught me how to fear.)

My autism fully engaging, I take to google maps to see if this is even a real place. I went through EVERY MUSEUM IN THE UK with taxidermy in it. There were actually only like five, it really didn't take long.

It exists. Sadly lacking the sign with a zebra on it. It's the Natural History Museum at Tring and it contains dead things.

While looking into this place on wikipedia to write this up, I found that until 2007, it was called the Walter Rothschild Zoological Museum, which seems to match what the unreadable blurry screenshot above might say. The museum was initially the private collection of a Lionel Walter, 2nd Baron Rothschild, who happened to also be a big fan of zebras it seems.

My guess is that at least one person involved in the production of Blood+ had been to the UK, maybe even this museum in particular, and it ended up in the show. Again, I haven't looked up behind-the-scenes info, and don't even know if it's on record.

Something I do find interesting, is that in my admittedly very brief google searches, I couldn't find any references to this. Part of the problem is that "Blood" is also a word, so my searches were pulling in some medical related results. But even the Fandom (ick) wiki for Blood+, in the synopsis for the episode, just calls it a museum. That same wiki has pages for the Metropolitan Art Museum in New York, and the Vietnam History Museum in Hanoi, as they appear in other episodes.

I doubt I'm the first person to find this information, but I guess the cross section of people who saw Blood+, people who recognise or hunt for British museums they see in anime, and people who talk about these things on the internet is very small.

Seeing real places in media can be fun. I once spent a few hours looking up locations shown in Digimon Story: Cyber Sleuth on google street view. On a different occasion I came across a collection of google map pins for the different locations in Steins;Gate.

I don't know how popular Blood+ was, or how good this museum is. I just find it weird that I couldn't find any record of this connection at all. But it's also more than possible that people did notice it, and I just couldn't find it. It feels like it should at least be a poorly worded item on an IMDB trivia page.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter three

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

"I'm so hungryyy," Luffy whined, hanging his head off the edge of the boat.

"When the hell are we gonna reach land anyway?" Zoro groaned as looked in the distance.

"Who knows? We're just sailin' on the wind and the waves, going where they take us. We might not ever even reach the land. Nah, I guess we will someday," the boy sighed.

"That someday better be today. 'Cause if I don't get some food soon, I'm gonna resort to eating some people," you groaned from your spot sprawled out on the floor, side-eyeing the green-haired man, "Lookin' at you, Zoro."

He scoffed and looked away, but you could've sworn you saw something red on his cheeks.

"Don't you find it dumb that someone trying to be King of the Pirates doesn't have a single navigational skill?" he asked Luffy, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Not really. I just drift around. What about you? Aren't you some famous bounty hunter who's sailed the seas?"

"He has a point," you chimed.

"I don't have any recollection of ever calling myself a bounty hunter. I set out onto the open sea in search of just one man, but then I couldn't get back to my village. By that point, I had no choice but to go after pirate ships to earn a living," Zoro answered, looking up into the sky.

"Oh, I see... So you're just lost," Luffy said, still staring down at the water.

You snickered.

"Hey, don't put it like that!" Zoro exclaimed, slamming his foot on the boat and making it rock.

Since you were on the ground, you got thrown up into the air and landed on a certain someone's lap.

"Bastard! I could've fallen off the boat," you growled in Zoro's face, furrowing your eyebrows.

You expected him to yell back, but that redness came to his cheeks and he looked away from you again.

"Get off," he grumbled.

You suddenly realized your position, sitting on his crotch, and your cheeks burned as you quickly crawled off.

"Your fault for rocking the boat," you grumbled under your breath as you looked away from him.

That's when you saw Luffy's hat floating over the sail and getting ready to fall in the ocean, but Zoro caught it before it could.

He handed it back to Luffy and the two sat back down, Luffy staring down at the hat in his hands for ten minutes.

"Luffy. You're gonna drop that thing again. I thought it was important," Zoro stated.

"It is. Thanks," Luffy smiled.

"Uh, I am so hungry. It's killing me," Zoro groaned.

You sighed and glanced up into the sky to see a bird.

"Look, it's a bird."

"I know! Let's eat it!" Luffy smiled.

"Huh? How do we catch it?" Zoro asked.

"Leave that to me! Gum Gum—!" "Luffy, no! That bird is—!"

But it was too late.

Strawhat already shot himself in the air and went straight for the bird, but it caught him in its beak.

"Huge," you sighed, finishing your sentence.

"Help me!" he started shouting as the bird carried him away.

Zoro quickly grabbed your only two oars and paddled as if his life depended on it.

"You moron! What the hell's goin' on now?!" Zoro exclaimed.

"I tried to tell you that the damn bird was gigantic!" you exclaimed, placing your hands at the sides of your mouth so Luffy could hear you.

"Can't you fly up there and grab him?!" Zoro snapped his head over to you.

"And get snatched up, too?!" 

"Hey! You there! Stop! Please! Men overboard!" one guy began calling from not too far ahead.

It looked like there were three of them.

"I can't believe we find ship wreckers at a time like this! I can't stop, you're just gonna have to jump in!" Zoro yelled.

"What?!" the men exclaimed as they swam to the sides of the boat and climbed in, just before they could get mowed down.

"I'm actually impressed you made it onboard," Zoro smirked.

"Are you trying to kill us?!" They shouted in unison.

"Stop the boat. Now. The three of us are members of Buggy the Clown's pirate crew. This boat is ours now!" the leader drew his sword, pointing it at you.

"Excuse me?" you asked in a dangerously low voice, narrowing your eyes at the three.

You proceeded to beat them to a pulp.

"Today is not the day. I'm tired, hungry, and my damn captain just got taken by a predatory bird. If you want to live to see the rest of your days then I suggest you paddle," you growled as you snatched the oars from Zoro and shoved them into the arms of the other pirates.

You looked back in the sky to see that Luffy and the bird were nowhere in sight.

"Thanks to you three idiots, we've lost sight of our friend."

"Knowing Luffy, he'll probably pull off something once he spots land," Zoro stated, looking up in the sky.

There was a long silence.

"So, any ideas about what we do now?" the lead henchman asked.

"Good question. If Captain Buggy finds out a girl stole our boat and our treasure, we're history," his comrade agreed.

"I know," the third one sadly agreed.

"Huh? So who is this Buggy guy?" Zoro asked.

"Uh. You've never heard of Buggy the Clown?!" the third one exclaimed.

"Nope," Zoro answered.

"He's the ruthless captain of our pirate ship. And he's eaten one of the Devil Fruits. Above everything else, he is one truly terrifying man," the leader answered, resting his hands on his knees.

You docked at the port that was in the direction Luffy was taken when a gigantic boom rang through the air.

"That was one heck of an explosion," Zoro stated seriously.

"It looked like it was one of the Captain's beloved Buggy Balls," one of the henchmen said fearfully.

"Buggy balls?" you cocked a brow.

You and Zoro got on the boat the henchmen told you that Luffy would be on, and as soon as you landed, the two of you saw Luffy trapped in a cage and a girl about to be turned into mincemeat.

Zoro quickly got in front of her and used his swords to block their attack.

You went over to the girl and helped her up.

"Hey now. It's not very nice of you guys to gang up on the poor girl," Zoro growled as he held the men in place with two swords.

"Zoro! (y/n)!" Luffy happily exclaimed.

"Are your hands alright?" you asked as you carefully took her hands in yours, examining her injuries.

The burn, luckily, wasn't too bad, and would heal pretty quickly.

"Whew! What a relief! I'm glad you found us. Now hurry up and come get me out of here," Luffy sighed.

"How do you keep getting yourself into these situations? First, a bird flies off with you, and now we find you trapped in a cage," Zoro asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's an interesting story, actually," Luffy shrugged.

"Hey, that little brat just called him Zoro!" one of the crew members gasped.

You started walking over to Luffy's cage with Zoro, when a creepy voice spoke up.

"So you're Zoro. If you're here for my head, you've got quite a struggle before you," a clown-looking captain crossed his arms.

"No. Not interested. I gave up pirate hunting. I'm here for my friend," Zoro calmly replied.

"But I'm interested though. Killing you would bolster my reputation," the captain smirked.

"If you try, you'll die," Zoro said darkly, glaring at Clown Face.

"Oh. Is that so?" Clown Face grinned, pulling out two cutlasses.

"I tried to warn you, but oh well," Zoro sighed.

The crew members started chanting "Buggy" as the two men stood off, Clown Face licking his swords and Zoro putting his third sword in his mouth, lowering into a fighting stance.

You moved off to the side so you weren't in the way.

Buggy ran for Zoro and jumped in the air, now having four cutlasses in one hand, but Zoro cut right through him, the pieces falling to the floor.

Zoro tucked his swords back into his holster.

"That wasn't much of a fight, now was it," he glared at Buggy's body.

'Something's not right.'

"Way to go, Zoro!" Luffy cheered.

The other pirates began laughing and you furrowed my eyebrows as you turned to them.

"Why are they laughing?"

"Their captain is laying dead on the ground and yet they're still laughing? What's going on?" The redheaded girl asked.

"Fellas. What do you find so damn funny?" Zoro glared at the pirates, his back turned so he couldn't see Buggy rise up from the ground.

Your eyes went wide as Buggy stabbed him in the side, Zoro yelling out in pain.

"ZORO!" you and Luffy shouted in unison.

Buggy's severed hand pulled out the cutlass and returned to his wrist.

"The Chop Chop fruit. That's the name of the Devil Fruit that's given me my powers. I'm a Chop-Chop person, and now I can never be defeated by the sword!" Buggy maniacally laughed as he reconnected his torso with his legs.

You quickly whipped out your pistol from your holster and shot him in the foot to see if that would do anything.

His yell of pain gave you your answer.

"We can do guns if you want," you spat, grabbing your other one out of your other holster.

Your outfit was simple. A white tube top with a brown, burlap, miniskirt, a belt with a holster for your mace and pistols, and a gold anklet that hung loosely on your Greek sandaled feet.

"So he's a Chop Chop man? That's pretty freaky," Luffy deadpanned.

"So angry. I didn't hit any vital organs on your little boyfriend, but that's a serious wound he has there. So I'm guessing I am the winner! But now it's your turn, girl. Don't think I'll let you shooting me go without punishment," Buggy smirked, his henchmen cheering for him.

"I let my guard down. Stupid mistake," Zoro strained, slowly trying to get up.

"It was. Now, can you fight? I can't take on the crew and Bozo over here by myself," you asked him in a low voice, keeping your eyes on Clown Face.

"Stabbing him in the back was a cowardly move, you Big Nose!" Luffy shouted.

The entire crew went silent.

"What's that... you... said! Who's got a big nose?!" Buggy shouted, throwing a cutlass at Luffy.

"Luffy!" Zoro exclaimed.

But Straw Hat managed to catch it with his teeth.

"I'm gonna kick your ass as soon as I get out of this cage!" Luffy smiled, breaking the sword.

"You kick my ass? You've got a lot of nerve, kid. No, I'm afraid all four of you are going to die here today, by my own hand. So if you're going to do any ass kicking, you better do it soon," Buggy laughed.

"We're done for. It's all over," the redhead girl said sadly.

"I refuse to die! (y/n)! Get ready!" Luffy shouted, smiling.

"You better have a really good plan or else we're all dead!" you and Redhead shouted back in unison.

Suddenly, it clicked, and you smirked.

"I gotcha," you nodded in a low voice.

"Impudent girl! Time to die!" Buggy shouted, attacking you with all five of his swords.

You blocked every single one of his swipes, managing to bash his torso in half and then get behind him.

"I already told you I'm—Hey! Listen when I'm talking to you!" Buggy shouted once he realized you were running to the cannon, Zoro over your shoulder.

You placed him down in front of you before getting under the cannon and pushing up, straining to lift it.

"AGH!" you shouted, making your wings help push, flipping it over to face the other pirates.

Zoro's eyes went wide as he watched you, and the pirates' faces lit up in terror.

"Crap, the cannon's pointed at us! No!" Buggy exclaimed.

"Hurry! Light it!" You ordered the girl.

"Right!" She nodded.

"Wait! The cannon's still loaded with a special Buggy Ball! I don't wanna go out like this! Done in by my own balls!" Buggy shouted.

Redhead lit the fuse.

"I can't believe you just did that, yo ungrateful little girl! Wait! N-N-No! Stop! Stop it now!"

Buggy's rants were interrupted by the deafening boom of the cannon.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Exploring Con O'Neill's Filmography Day #?- Murder City S01.EP4- Mr. Right (2004)

Murder City S01.EP4- Mr. Right

Warnings: Depiction of a murder, gunshots/gun violence, stalking, obsession over an adult woman(the fucking victim) from both a police officer and multiple victims, minor of the time period transphobic comments. This is Copoganda. It's not even hiding it.

This is one of Con's one-off performances for a TV show. It's a cop procedural and it runs at just about an hour. Watch his scenes, you don't really need to care about the plot. He's a side character that barely matters once the mystery is all tied together. If you're craving a cop show, just watch the Pie in the Sky episode he's in. You will have a better time.

Due to the weird pacing of this episode and scene changes, unless you've seen it you probably won't get what's going on. I've edited to add context the best I can, but you can skip to the end to see my overall thoughts.

As always, I love chatting in the comments. If you've already seen this, don't be afraid to rant!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

What the fuck is this intro? Why does it feel like a HGTV show.

Okay, lets play the game of, is Con the victim or the murderer?

HE'S THE CORPSE?

OH SHIT THAT'S NOT CON.

I'm calling it now, three-way. Guy was let in, and shot him.

I'm guessing right now Con killed them, jealous of the guy for getting the girl. Or Con's character was jealous of the woman.

Definitely Man hands holding that gun, is it Con? If so, #6 of Con's character improperly using guns. (Spoilers, supprisingly, I don't think Con's character touches a gun)

CON APPEARS

'Spencer Grieves. A catholic, a family man. A vicious bastard.' HELL YEAH! HANG ON. He's a vicious flower wholesale person, and if you don't buy from him, he fucking attacks you?!??!!? Flower better be code for drugs, or I fucking swear.

God, I love criminal/competent Con characters, he's having so much fun.

They wouldn't need literally every person in her family to come in and identify the body, this just seems cruel.

This whole purity angle for the victim is just gross. She's a fully grown adult, why the fuck are they so shocked she's fucking people.

This is why you don't let yourself be defined by a certain animal. She's stuck with ducks, and I'll forever be stuck with owls. I wonder if owls will be relevant to my murder.

(Going to the all mens prision to interogate a suspect, our female detective goes in basically alone, with the prisoners walking around their residential area) They would have put everyone in lockdown for her to come on. What the fuck?

CON. That hat is fun. From now on, he's Spencer.

WHY THE FUCK IS HE TALKING ABOUT LOVE SO MUCH IN HIS FIRST SCENE? I know for the 20 years post Blood Brothers he was cast in these types of roles. Sad and wrecked people wanting acceptance. Look at any of his work from the 90s/00s. BUT GOD. Someone needs to rip all of these 'I'm a sad, lonely, blank looking for love, etc. ' speeches into a Izzy edit.

HE ALSO HAS SHIPS ON HIS MEMORY BOARD, HELL YEAH

HE'S GAY(OR BI!!!!! Depending on if he loves his wife, yet to be seen. But given she hasn't visited him...eh)!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HE'S FUCKING IN LOVE WITH SCOVI (the male victim)! I love the 'wow I didn't think this guy was gay' subversion always being Con's thing. He inadvertently makes the subversion a typecast for himself. Funny as shit.

Oh wow. A Queer Con character who devoted his life to someone, only for his lover to suddenly make a total life change, and leave him behind for a blonde. Shocker.

Okay. SPENCER IS SO MUCH FUN. He's bringing Cliff(BBC Uncle)/Angel(3 Steps to Heaven) energy here, and I'm kind of loving it.

"And my wife? She wouldn't approve." OHHH. God, he's funny as shit. Awful and morally dubious, but fun as shit.

Why would you have code names to hide the identities of the men you'd want to fuck in a personal diary.

Also, I don't like that the blonde detective seems like he'd want to fuck the dead woman.

Spencer's wife seems fun. The cop calling Spencer 'A small Alpha of a man who protects his family' is rude. I am one inch taller than he is.

Okay, obviously ACAB. Don't trust cops. But if Spencer's work is endangering her children then, yeah, probably best to gtfo.

They're all kinda sexist as shit to the blonde detective lady.

God I hate this blonde guy detective. He's such a confident idiot. In an American show, he would have been shot and learned not to be an idiot like this. Going in somewhere alone with a suspect of a murder case? Dumbass.

Also, if he got any evidence from that conversation how would he even use it in court?

EY Back at the prison. Nice. Smiling Con is the best Con.

Why would Spencer not hide contraband well?

HAHAHA I am routing for Spencer, this plan the cops had was stupid as fuck.

If I was as paranoid as this character likely is, I'd just throw out my phone.

Idiots. He clearly knows you snooped.

The editing in this is a choice.

This love triangle/circle/fucking hexagon feels like high school gossip.

Transphobic joke is not needed, and neither is the sexist comment jackasses.

I am pretty sure this isn't how phones work?

Good for him, knowing not to say shit regardless if he thinks something could be tracked. Also, Bi-con.

NVM, let's just admit guilt and a few other crimes over the phone.

Why are these innocent people just talking to cops? Giving them free information as they stalk you out of your workplace. I hate this blonde jackass.

WHAT THE FUCK. What is this editing? WHY DOES BLONDE DOUCHE WANT TO FUCK THE DEAD CHICK.

Yeah, it's a fucking diary jackass. It's going to be biased as fuck, why are you taking at as gospel. Does he have a Sherlock Holmes thing going on here? Seeing how things 'really' happened.

DON'T THEY NEED A FUCKING WARRANT TO SEE CCTV! "Enhance it" It's a fucking bald guy. You have one bald suspect. Also, enhancing things doesn't work like that.

Well, now you've probably endangered Spencer's entire family.

We are 40 minutes into this, can you fucks not argue about who gets credit for the case.

God I hate cop shows. Stop being smug bastards, someone's been killed.

YEY! Back to the prison!

Also, as a person who has done tours in my local prison (US) for our government class, it's weird to see how this prison is semi-accurate.

WHY ARE YOU GIVING A PEP TALK TO GROSS BLONDE DETECTIVE ABOUT DATING SURROUNDED BY FELONS. Spencer was a violent offender, all the people surrounding him likely have similar sentences. But no, lets openly chat about how his standards are too high? He's a fucking unlikeable worm of a man.

Just let him be single. Jesus Christ.

DID SPENCER GET A GUN TO KILL THE GUY WHO SOLD HIM OUT! (Or used bought loyalty to get the guy killed)If so, badass. And he got away with it cause he had help. Perfect.

How about we just assume anyone who was involved will be killed.

God, Spencer shouldn't be hot...What am I kidding myself, of course he's hot.

Spencer is also cheating on her. If he's catholic enough to care, he already thinks he's going to hell. Both for cheating and fucking men.

Also, cops are paid to lie to you. We as the audience know the cop is just lying, but Spencer should have assumed. How he doesn't know this as an experienced felon is bullshit.

ALSO WHY WASN'T SPENCER TIED DOWN OR HANDCUFFED! I swear to god, does having a violent record mean nothing in England? WHAT DID YOU EXPECT! The cop was riling him up.

Oh, finally someone guilty has a lawyer

That blood looked like paint. Nice red apple. How the fuck is there 20 minutes left.

Yeah, maybe if you think Spencer is guilty wait until he's out. Set something up to watch him after he leaves prison, and wait. Jesus Christ.

Why the fuck does an older blonde woman care about the younger blonde detective's sex life? This is the third scene that's like this. Like, it's sweet that she cares about work-life balance, but being a cop is one of those jobs where that shit goes out the window.

Nope. I hate this. When Sherlock does it, it works cause Sherlock isn't trying to picture sad desperate women looking for love. He treats them with respect. This jackass is just lonely and pictures victims being his friend. Weird as shit.

(He tries to kiss his imaginary ghost victim) WHAT THE FUCK. Is this supposed to be charming?

CON! THANK GOD! Rescue me, please. Look at that summer drip. I think I own that shirt. At least he's being nice about handing the phone over for evidence.

ENHANCING IMAGES DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT

A shrine? Weird. Also, I know this person is obsessed, but seriously? Who decorates like that.

Eh, that pun was awful.

Yeah, having both men be obsessed with her just points out how gross the detective guy is.

So a gross man thinking he knew what was right for a woman, wow, shocker.

Yeah, bullets go through people. Idiot.

THE DIARY SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN EVIDENCE THE ENTIRE TIME JESUS CHRIST

So what was Spencer whole deal, just gay and knew a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time?

HOT CON ALERT. Shirt half unbuttoned, chest hair exposed, sunglasses on. This is the mental wash I need after remembering how god-awful and scary it can be to date.

Why is he talking to the cop? I thought he hated him.

SHE LEFT WITH THE KIDS OH SHIT. AWWWW. Jackass cop.

Is he going to get shot? Well, now he's left with a dead lover, no wife, and no kids. Likely no place to work. He'll probably go right back into crime.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT THIS BLOND DETECTIVE. Oh, he can see her? It's a ghost thing? Ah well. If this was actually her consciousness, it doesn't make his obsession with her any less creepy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Story: 4/10. Spencer's thing was the only part I enjoyed.

The entire cop crew pissed me off, I didn't like a single character. The victim was guilty of being young and pretty. A bunch of men felt like they were owed her attention, and she gets accidentally killed out of possessive jealousy. So what do the writers do? Make our main protagonist fall for her. Dumb and gross. Even in death, she's just eye candy. Not a person. Her parents knew her as innocent, which is the first thing that interests the detective. Just gross. The other detectives were either just assholes, or uninteresting.

Con: Loved it. Honestly, I love when Con gets to play competent people. He felt lived in, and like what Angel should have been in 3 Steps to Heaven. All of this comes from Con's performance as a cautious criminal, not through the writing. More about his character and the way he holds himself. Gender and confidence envy.

Spencer Grieves: The sarcastic maybe Bisexual Catholic with a history of violence. He wasn't even directly tied into the main murder, he just fucked the wrong guy. Love destroys you, indeed. Again, the mother probably made the best choice getting the kids out of there. But I felt like Spencer genuinely cared, and loved his family. So in all likely hood, after all this good behavior and growth, he's probably going right back to jail.

It kind of feels like the writers threw in his queerness as a 'look at how awful of a parent/spouse he is'. Or maybe in a 'wow, a gay 'immoral' criminal, no one is shocked' copoganda way.

Which isn't great, but of the time period. Spencer is a fun and compelling character that doesn't deserve to be in this copaganda bullshit. Speaking of copaganda.

Bias that almost made me skip scene by scene through this: It's fucking propaganda. We're supposed to be sympathizing with the wisecracking asshole cops. Be happy when they lie, or mislead, or abuse their power. But no. Everything they said made me hate them, and want the criminals to get away with fucking murder. In Pie in the Sky, yeah they were cops, but they were still people. Solving stupid no stakes crimes, the assholes in the show were other cops and we as the audience were supposed to hate them. This show felt like every bad part of CSI, but British. No fault to Con here.

Overall: If anyone has clipped Con's scenes, then that's the best way to watch it. Even without context, Con's performance is fun. The way thay handled the victims part just felt gross. She was never a person, just an item, to everyone in her life. A victim who was taken advantage of by their want to love and be loved. Kind of like Spencer when you think about it, passionate about his family, and how he freaked out about his wife cheating on him. His world fell apart because he loved the male victim and his wife. Now both are left with nothing...No, im not giving the writers that much credit here.

Just rewatch Pie in The Sky. This is weird for me, cause Con plays a confirmed queer character here but it feels more hateful.

B-tier for Con's performance/character. The show around him ties him down sadly, fucking D for the story. I don't know how I'd scale this on a /10 scale. Just know, not high. While his other stuff was fun to watch, as soon as Con was off-screen I was uncomfortable.

As always, love to @ivegotnonameidea for the suggestions ;)